Work in Progress
by KrissyC
Summary: Kurt broke Blaine's heart. Two years later, Blaine is a Grammy-Award winning Heartthrob. When Kurt wakes up from a car accident and can't remember anything one month after their break-up, he sets out on a journey of love and remembrance. Having a sassy Latina by your side can't be too bad either. * Slight AU* (ABANDONED)
1. Chapter 1: The Break-Up

**Welcome.! Hah. This is a new MultiFic. I will update once a week. Maybe twice if I get them written in time. C:**

 **Partly why I decided to write this is because a reviewer told me something that bothered me (in some type of way). Not only did I want to prove the reviewer wrong, but I wanted to prove it opposite for myself.**

 **I adore this story and I was beyond excited to start writing. I have the next chapter written and I really, really love it. I hope you guys enjoy reading, honest. One of the reasons I write is to put a smile on someones face. It's honestly a blessing.**

 **P.S The first few chapters are going to be sort of creating the base. So bare with me.**

 **I'll stop rambling and let you proceed. This is the prologue, hope you have fun. Thanks again. *insert huge smiley face***

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. (:**

* * *

 **SUMMER BEFORE SENIOR YEAR OF COLLEGE.**

.

Kurt Hummel was drunk.

Not the 'let's hurdle around in our underwear and sing songs loudly' drunk. No. He was the 'hammered like hell' drunk. He could scarcely see his hands let alone the road ahead of him.

He was currently on his way home from the bar: "Little babies." Also known as the sexiest yet most promiscuous gay club in the lower east side of Manhattan. If he weren't so intoxicated he would have probably had an easier time catching a taxi. However seeing as how he was not the least bit sober, it was probably the single most hardest task known to man.

When serendipity finally spoke, he sprang into the car and drunkenly slobbered his own address to the driver. And now we've approached the independent variable: Kurt in a drunk stupor prepared to walk into his shared apartment.

"Sir," said a deafening voice. "Hey, mister," the voice spoke again after not getting a response. Kurt could hear it but didn't burden himself to respond. He stayed where he was, head against the door of a smelly cab, eyes closed.

Five minutes later he started hearing muffled voices outside. Before he knew it, he was falling face first onto the ground. Someone with a terrible taste in shoes had just opened the door on him. He looked up and saw none other than his roommate, Rachel Berry glaring down at him. He probably would have let out a snappy remark if he hadn't felt all the contents of tonight moving upward.

Kurt stood as quickly as his drunken body could handle and began walking fast to the bathroom inside the apartment. He could hear Rachel apologizing to the cabby, knowing she was probably paying for whatever the cost. She was definitely going to chew him out in the morning.

"Kurt Hummel." Rachel was screaming at him. "You stop right now!" She demanded. You could practically hear her hair follicles rising from the anger she felt towards the porcelain man.

Kurt refused to acknowledge her. He needed to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible or he would ruin everything around him.

Just as he approached the bathroom, Rachel stopped in front of him palm out. "Apparently you didn't understand correctly when I yelled stop, Kurt," she said, breathless. Obviously she had worked hard to get there prior to Kurt. "What the hell?" She began. "We had plans. You promised me you'd be there tonight and you threw me down the drain yet again." Her arms were flailing wildly. "Do you know what that makes me look like? Huh? Of course you don't because you-" She didn't get to finish. Kurt's hands flew to his mouth, as if that would help. The vomit erupted and squeezed passed his fingers.

The last thing he remembered before passing out was Rachel panicking and screaming over her vomit-covered dress suit.

...

...

 _Kurt chugged back his second shot of alcohol as he looked around at the people in the room._

 _This was a party for Blaine and his casts' opening night on Broadway. The show was called "The Normal Heart" starring Blaine as Felix Turner. It wasn't a musical but it was still Broadway which made Blaine happy._

 _Kurt was extremely proud of Blaine when he got the phone call. However as the rehearsals went on, it became painfully obvious that Blaine's cast member; Sebastian Smyth who played Ned Weeks; the love interest of Blaine's character, had a very extensive yet very public crush on the man._

 _Sebastian was never one to hide anything from anyone so, of course he took every chance he could to hit on Blaine, not only in private but also smack dab in Kurt's face. Kurt had tried to tell Blaine about the man's ulterior motives but Blaine would just shake it off with the old "He's harmless" bit and a kiss to the lips._

 _So now Kurt had to sit and watch Sebastian fawn and drool all over the man he loved, while he sat and drank himself soiled. Every time he looked over and saw Sebastian rest his arm on Blaine's bicep, or watched him speak quietly yet obnoxiously sexual in his ear, Kurt would feel his anger grow. But not towards Sebastian._

 _Blaine was just letting him get away with it! He'd laugh and play along as if he didn't actually have a boyfriend sitting alone at the bar. It's like Blaine didn't even care that Kurt hated the man. The more Kurt thought about it, the more he started convincing himself that Blaine actually liked the attention Sebastian was giving him, that he liked the advances so he gave in. He knew he was thinking radically but Blaine had let this go on far too long and Kurt felt like he was being cheated out of this relationship. Or the alcohol was clogging his better judgement, either way he didn't feel good._

 _Kurt turned back to the bar and saw another shot set in front of him. He silently thanked the bar keep with a smile, before throwing back the drink._

 _"Number three." Kurt heard the voice before he saw the face. When he looked up, a tall man who wore a well-tailored suit that fit his well-shaped body excellently, had seated himself next to Kurt. He had deep green eyes with dirty blonde hair swept back. His smile revealed a perfect set of white teeth. If Kurt were honest with himself, this man looked exactly like the prince charming he dreamed about at ages eight through 14._

 _Kurt eyed him before speaking. "What?"_

 _The man pointed to his empty shot glass. "Number three," He said, smiling again._

 _Kurt physically tried not to roll his eyes. "You know, counting someone's alcohol isn't attractive. It just makes them feel like an alcoholic," Kurt spoke, beginning to feel the effects of the three shots._

 _The stranger chuckled lightly. "Trust me. You look nothing like an alcoholic," he said, eyeing Kurt somewhat seductively._

 _Kurt let out a breath, understanding why a strange man would approach him like this at a cast party bar. "You're flirting with me," He announced, not really asking the question._

 _"I am flirting with you," the man said, nodding his head, and smiling again._

 _Kurt was more than ready to object, to tell the stranger that he had a boyfriend whom he cared for deeply. But before his right mind could do so, he looked over at Blaine and Sebastian again. They were dancing and the look on Sebastian's face could physically make him ill. So he turned back to the man and smiled._

 _"What's your name?" Kurt asked, opening the can of worms. Two could play that game_

 _"Jack," he said, extending his hand._

 _Kurt took his hand. "Kurt."_

 _Jack smiled and held his hand a little longer than necessary before releasing it. "So, Kurt. Why is an attractive man like you sitting at the bar all alone," he asked curiously._

 _Kurt smiled at the cheesy compliment. He glanced over at Blaine again and his face fell noticeably. "Just enjoying the view."_

 _Jack looked over and saw what Kurt had been looking at. He then nodded his head in understanding. "Ahh. You're hot for Blaine huh," he concluded. "I mean everyone is. Did you seem him on that stage?" He laughed. "But I hear he has a boyfriend; which I'm guessing that's him," he said, referring to Sebastian. "So we poor peasant folk have to settle for each other." He chuckled._

 _Kurt rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated half grunt. "I'm his boyfriend, Dammit!" He chugged back another shot the bartender had set down for him, quickly._

 _Jack's mouth fell into a small 'o' shape. "No wonder you're so attractive. Beautiful people sleep with beautiful people."_

 _Kurt let out a small laugh. He liked this guy. "Yeah. That's why I'm sitting at the bar alone," He told him, looking over at Blaine again, torturing himself. Blaine looked up from Sebastian and saw Kurt. He smiled and waved briefly causing Kurt's anger to flare. He leaned over to rest his hand on Jack's wrist seductively. "And that's why you're here." He winked._

 _Jack's head tilted, slightly confused. He looked over at Blaine and saw him looking at them. Jack's face grew into a wider smile. "You want to make him jealous," he asked, propositioning Kurt._

 _Kurt knew he was going to regret this, but his anger was stronger than his reason. "How?"_

 _Jack stood and walked up very close to Kurt. He set his hand down on his cheek and looked into his eyes._

 _Kurt's body was shaking from rage and nerves. He looked at Blaine one last time. There was a look on his face that even Kurt couldn't read. Kurt looked back to Jack and nodded his head, giving him permission._

 _The kiss was sloppy and wet. It was meaningless but it felt good in Kurt's borderline drunken state. Jack even went as far as sticking his tongue in Kurt's mouth. Kurt wasn't use to kisses like this and he didn't know how to respond but he still kissed back, knowing this would hurt Blaine in way's Blaine hurt him._

 _When Jack released him, they stayed face-to-face. Kurt's fingers flew to his mouth and he knew that he had just made a regretful mistake._

 _Kurt looked over at Blaine. He was shaking his head with a sad expression on his face. He began walking to the front exit. Kurt knew Blaine wanted him to follow. Kurt took another shot, before moving towards the exit._

 _When Kurt reached the entrance, he stepped outside and saw Blaine, his heart felt heavy instantly._

 _Blaine recognized the presence without direct eyesight. He let out a heavy sigh. "My opening night," he said in barely a whisper. Anger reads in his voice as he repeats: "My opening night on Broadway, Kurt and you had to go and ruin it!"_

 _Kurt was pushing past tipsy right now and apparently didn't care about thinking before he spoke. "Wait, you're mad at me? You're actually mad at me?"_

 _Blaine turned around so quickly, he could have given Kurt whiplash. He was so surprised by what Kurt was asking he let out an exasperated chuckle. "Are you serious? You're asking me that, like you have the right?" Blaine was furious._

 _Kurt was more angry at himself than anything. But the fact that Blaine was this upset with him after he was just letting Sebastian dry hump him, made Kurt want to hurt Blaine further. "Oh, please. It's not like you didn't do the same thing back there!"_

 _Blaine walked up closer to Kurt, his voice low and withholding. "I did not just have my tongue down some trashy bar stalker's throat, Kurt."_

 _It sounded much worse to Kurt as Blaine said it aloud. "Well," he tired defending. "You were practically fucking Sebastian on the dance floor," he declared, his voice rising. He never spoke like this, only when intoxicated._

 _Blaine stepped back, shaking his head. "You're drunk," he announced, slowly. Obviously he had smelled the liquor on Kurt's breath. Before Kurt could come up with some excuse, Blaine raised his hand. "The one night that I have been working forward to for over half my life. The one night you and I have been talking about since juniors in high school." He paused, tears filling his eyes. "The one night my dreams actually became a reality," He shook his head. "You go making it about yourself by getting drunk. And not only do you get drunk but you also suck face with someone who isn't me. You cheat on me, on tonight of all nights!" He was crying now. "Did you want my attention, Kurt?" His throat vibrating louder. "You wanted my attention on you?" Blaine's arms were flailing everywhere. "Well here it is. And while you have it, why don't you inform me as to why you would go and whore yourself out for moments we could have at ANY OTHER TIME!"_

 _Kurt's brain was rattled. His plan was to make Blaine hurt as much as he did..._ I guess I succeeded _he thought, shamefully._

 _Blaine's voice was quiet again, as tears fell from his eyes. "You couldn't have waited a smidgen longer to ruin things, Kurt. Damnit!" Blaine turned away from him, almost visibly shaking._

 _Kurt stood mute. Before he could even get his boozed up brain to think of anything to say, the last voice he'd ever want to here at a moment like this, came up beside Blaine._

 _"Hey, Bee." Sebastian said. Obviously he had been eavesdropping on their private conversation. "Everything alright?"_

 _Kurt imagined giant forks stabbing Sebastian in the face! "We are fine," Kurt said through a clenched jaw. "Now if you don't mind, we-"_

 _Blaine interrupted him. "Just stop, Kurt. We are done talking," he stated, his words final. He turned to Sebastian. "Can you give me a ride to a hotel or something?" he asked. He and Kurt had shared a taxi._

 _"No way, man. You'll stay at my place tonight. My roommate won't mind."_

 _"Whatever, just get me outta here," Blaine said, walking away tired and uninterested._

 _Sebastian walked Blaine back to his car, turning and smirking at Kurt victoriously. Cheeky bastard._

 _All Kurt could see was red. He watched them walk away. Blaine wasn't staying at their apartment tonight. Blaine was going to Sebastian's house, Damn him!_

 _He stormed back into the party, heading straight to the bar. He took one last shot before turning to Jack. "Take me home," he said._

 _Jack sighed slightly. "Look, Kurt. I'm assuming you just got into something with your friend. I think it's best if you just call a cab."_

 _Kurt rolled his eyes and stepped closer to Jack, legs touching. "Take me home," he repeated seductively._

 _Jack blinked a few times before understating the double meaning. "Oh. Okay," he said breathlessly._

 _..._

 _Kurt woke to a loud voice; Blaine's voice. He couldn't understand what he was saying, but he knew that he was angry. As Kurt became aware, he also grew aware of the events of last night. He violently sat up, instantly regretting it._ How much did I drink last night?

 _Kurt rose from the bed and began walking to the living area. The front door slammed and Blaine stood angrily, fists balled and jaw clenched._

 _Kurt stepped into view catching Blaine's eye. When Blaine looked at him, he shook his head and began walking towards him. Blaine stopped dead in front of Kurt for a split second. In that second Kurt saw and remembered everything._

 _He had made one of the biggest mistakes of his life last night. And Blaine had just escorted that mistake out of their apartment._

 _"Five years..." Blaine whispered. He shook his head and slid around Kurt; actively trying not to touch him._

 _Kurt spun on his heels and followed._

 _Blaine was moving fast and steady. He opened the closet and reached for a bag. Kurt's eyes widened and his heart stopped as he saw what Blaine was doing._

 _"What are you doing," Kurt asked breathlessly, not necessarily wanting an answer._

 _Blaine began shoving clothes into the bag violently, blatantly ignoring Kurt._

 _"Blaine please, just..." Kurt was struggling to find the right words. "Just... let's just talk about this." He could see Blaine, physically trying not to cry._

 _Blaine continued piling clothes into the overnight bag. "I think there's been enough talking, Kurt," he said with a quiet anger, not even looking Kurt in the eye._

 _Kurt had to do something. He couldn't let this man walk out of their apartment like this. Kurt all but ran up to Blaine and grabbed his face, holding him tightly. "Blaine, please. Don't do this," Kurt practically begged, eyes watered._

 _Blaine's hands flew to Kurt's, resting on top. Blaine broke. "You brought him into our apartment, Kurt," he sobbed, crying and shaking his head. "How could you...," his voice cracking._

 _Kurt pulled him closer, looking dead in his eyes. "Blaine, I was drunk and I made a mistake. You have to believe me," Kurt said, meaning every word._

 _Blaine took a moment before composing himself as much as possible. He squared his shoulders and slowly detached Kurt's hands. "Why should I believe a word you say," he asked._

 _"Because I love you!" That's all Kurt could give. He loved Blaine, and he wished on everything that he could take back last night. He wanted more than anything to blame it on the alcohol or blame it on Sebastian. But the truth is, it was his own insecurities that set him off. He had screwed this up all on his own and he had no idea how to fix it._

 _Blaine nodded before turning swiftly to the bathroom. When he came back, he held all the bare essentials in hand, and put them in the bag._

 _Kurt stepped back, crying heavily. Blaine was about to leave, and Kurt wasn't sure if he was ever going to come back._

 _Blaine zipped up the bag and threw it over his shoulder._

 _"Where will you stay," Kurt asked, praying that he didn't hear Sebastian._

 _Blaine was halfway out the bedroom door way before he turned back to Kurt. "I'll call," he said, his voice a whisper, not sure if he would or not._

 _Blaine walked to the front door. He had his hand on the handle as he looked back at Kurt. "I didn't stay at Sebastian's last night." Kurt visibly shrunk with guilt. "And I'm not going there now."_

 _Kurt's heart broke at his every word. He moved closer to Blaine, eyes flowing steadily. "Blaine please..." He said one last time._

 _"You were the only one," Blaine said with a nod, eyes and heart heavy. "Always." A sigh. "I guess you can't say the same for me," he finished, spitefully. He turned away from Kurt and then walked out the door._

...

...

Kurt woke in a sweat. He was sad; dreadfully sad, and he had a raging headache.

It had been a solid three days of him not being cursed with that dream; or memory as that what it actually was. He hasn't seen Blaine since then. It's almost been a month; 21 days exactly. He hasn't heard from him, or spoke to him since either. All he had was a stupid text message from Sam saying Blaine was fine and the awful dreams.

Kurt hated waking from said dream. It was a painfully obvious reminder of what he had done and how badly he had screwed up. Hell, he didn't even know if they were broken up.

He's not excusing his recent behavior but the reason why he had been calling in sick to work every other day and going out clubbing, might have something to do with that current situation.

Kurt sat up, cursing his head for hurting. He reached his phone. 2:48 P.M. "Damn it!" He said aloud. He was late for work, by a good five hours. He decided to dial a number.

"Hello," he asked. A voice answered. "Yes, it's me Kurt. Yes, I am calling in sick. There's this really bad bug thing-" He was cut off. "Ok Isabelle. I will be there tomorrow. I promise." He rolled his eyes at her caring and understanding voice before throwing the phone back down.

Kurt stood and went to the kitchen, praying that his temporary roommate; Rachel, stewed some coffee.

No such luck, to Kurt's surprise. He moved to the living room, speaking loudly. "Rachel, if you're here, I might cut off every bit of your hair and sew them into your stupid animal sweaters for not making me any coffee." When Kurt didn't get a reply he figured she went to rehearsals.

Which is why he almost had a heart attack when he saw five people standing in his living room. Rachel, Sam, Mercedes, Tina, and Blaine.

Kurt came to an abrupt stop, standing across from them. "Tha hell...?" He whispered, slightly frightened. He hadn't seen Blaine in almost a month for obvious reasons. Mercedes hadn't spoken to him since the whole vogue debacle awhile ago. Tina was angry at him for getting her fired, and Sam was "team Blaine all the way". So he was slightly confused as to why the five stood there with different types of disappointed expressions on their faces.

Kurt was slightly happy at the fact that Blaine was standing in their apartment again. He was also afraid of what might come of all this. He's come to end it. I know he has. He had to TRY not to stare directly at him. "What's going on," he asked his friends. "Is this some kind of intervention?"

Rachel was the first to speak. "Kurt, it's 2 o'clock in the evening," she began, shaking her head. "And you're just now waking up."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Come on, Rachel. I had a hard night last night," he explained. He chanced a glance at Blaine before instantly regretting it. The man looked disappointed which in actuality, made Kurt feel shame.

"Kurt, you're drunk all the time, you miss work..." Mercedes started, helping Rachel out.

"And I know for a fact you haven't been turning in any designs." Tina chimed in.

How would Tina know that? Kurt grew angry. He didn't wake up with a raging headache just to have his friend's team up on him. "Please come to a point," He gypped, accusingly.

"We want to help, man." Sam said earnestly.

"This isn't healthy, Kurt. The way you're living is not good for you. We care about you and if you'd just let us help you-" Mercedes was cut off.

Kurt shoulders started to itch with rage. "You came here to help me?" He asked, rhetorically "I haven't spoken to the majority of you in at least two weeks. Now all of a sudden you want to pretend to be my friend." Kurt shook his head. "No." His voice broke slightly. "I didn't ask for your help and I sure as hell don't need it. I am a big boy. I can take care of myself." He tried convincing them but knew it wasn't working. "You guys can't be friends one day and two-faced back stabbers the next." He hadn't meant to call them names, he just felt attacked and didn't know how to defend himself any other way.

Sam spoke again. "Kurt, we never wanted to hurt you. We just-"

Blaine lifted out his hand to stop them all from talking. He had been quiet up til now. Everyone became silent, knowing Blaine could somewhat get through to him.

Blaine walked up to Kurt slowly, face-to-face. Even though he was slightly shorter, Kurt still felt like he was being towered over. Kurt squared his shoulders, ready for the attack. Blaine was the type of person who didn't need to fight – even though he had the hands of John Ceena. He didn't need to threaten you or make you fear him with illiteracy and curse words. No, not Blaine. Blaine could tear you down and make you feel inadequate with just his words. A lot of the time, Kurt was turned on by that fact, however right now, he feared it the most.

Blaine's arms were crossed as he closed in on Kurt. "You are unforgivable," he began slowly. "And I don't say that as a person with a dislike for another person, or someone who wants to hurt your feelings. No," he explained, shaking his head. "I mean it as a general fact; the very definition. You hurt others, with only the intent to hurt them. You hurt your friends. You hurt your family," he paused letting out a heavy sigh before whispering: "You hurt me." He nodded, trying to keep his composure as he continued. "But we put up with it because we love you, because we care about you. However, this," he gestured circles around Kurt. "These games for attention, I care nothing for. That is why I am walking out of that door, fully prepared to never come back," Blaine said, looking dead into Kurt's eyes. Everyone in the room could practically hear Kurt's heart drop. Blaine could see the tears in his eyes but he couldn't let that stop him. "And it's just the beginning. With the choices you've made and the pain you have caused, it is only destined to get worse. I am only the first of many you will push away in your lifetime, to say I am done," He concluded honestly, knowing that it needed to be said. "Look around at the few people in this room and say your goodbyes, because this is it." He shook his head. "Eventually you will have played so many games; too many games and you will be alone. And then you'll look back and realize how unforgivable you actually were."

Blaine stood there for a moment, looking deep into Kurt's tear filled eyes. He had meant every word and he wouldn't take it back. No matter how much Blaine loved Kurt, he had to leave. For not only his health, but also for Kurt's.

So Blaine let out a humorless chuckle, shook his head and whispered: "I'll see ya, Kurt" before walking out of their apartment door for the last time.

As the door shut, Kurt fell to his knees, sobbing violently.

The room went quiet. No one had expected Blaine to say any of that. They watched as their friend sobbed his heart out. They had no idea how to fix him.

He felt heavy hands on his shoulders as he shook. After a long moment, he finally spoke. "Leave," he demanded quietly.

"Kurt, please. Let us help you," Tina said, almost pleading.

Kurt shrugged their arms off and stood. He looked them square in the face. "I want all of you to leave," he began slowly. "And don't come back." And with that, he walked off, and slammed the door to his room.

...

...

* * *

 **If you made it this far, I say thank you. I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review. They really do help. (:**

 **2 things. 1: I don't have a Beta so if someone could help me with that situation that would be heaven. 2: If you guys like what you've read thus far and you want to help me with the story, send me a prompt. I am glad to try them out.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Vogue Debacle

**This is a long one. Yay! (:**

 **This is a background chapter on Mercedes and Tina. I'd put it all in Italics but I feel like that would get on you guys' nerves.**

 **P.S. I know who the creator of Vogue is but I decided to make up the character anyway. (:**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable.**

 **Hope you like...**

* * *

 **EARLIER THAT SUMMER**

 **.**

 **MERCEDES**

 **.**

Kurt walked into his shared loft with a coffee and a grin. He had asked Rachel and Blaine to call Mercedes, Tina, Santana, and Sam and have them come to the apartment. It was a Wednesday night so they were all confused as to why they had to be there.

"OK. Everyone sit down." He talk-yelled to the rowdy adults before walking to the kitchen to set his coffee down.

Blaine stood in the kitchen as well, with a bottle of water in hand. Kurt pecked him on the lips before shooing him off to the living room.

Kurt walked over and stood in front of the group, eyes comically wide. When he got excited he tended to resemble Tweety Bird.

"What's going on, Lady Hummel?" Santana asked, seated on the couch in between Tina and Mercedes with Blaine standing behind them.

"Mhm." Sam nodded, sitting in the chair to the right. "I thought Monday night dinners were on Mondays," he said, looking confused. "Is Monday night dinners not on Monday's anymore, 'cause I'm not sure how that would work..."

Everyone gave him a funky look.

"You can't have Monday night dinners on a Wednesday, Kurt," he added, as if it were obvious.

Kurt shook his head, ignoring him and began, . "Well. Today Isabelle told me that I could choreograph a photo-shoot for a two-page spread in the magazine." He was gesturing widely with excitement. "I just have to use certain designers clothing and write a fantastic article on them." He finished, leaving out details for amusement.

Santana rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Did you bring us here just so we could watch you listen to yourself talk? What does that have to do with us?"

Kurt smiled at her, not letting her sour personality ruin him today. "Well, Satan. She also told me that I could choose the models." His smile grew wider.

Everyone eyes grew wide. Then the girls exploded. Blaine and Sam smiled broadly, trying to keep the 'man' in the room. Tina and Mercedes stood, clutching hands and screaming, while Rachel jumped up from her seat opposite Sam to thank Kurt with kisses to the cheek.

Santana had to yell just to get words out. "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT."

When the room finally stood relatively quite, Santana spoke again, asking the question everyone wanted to know. "Do we get to keep the clothes?," she asked nervously. She looked at him sideways, hoping on everything the answer was yes.

Kurt lifted his head as if he had to think about it before nodding his head, vigorously. "OBVIOUSLY!"

His answer led to more squeals, hand clutching and face kissing.

...

...

Kurt was told that he only had a week and a half before they started shooting. He was scared shitless.

This was his first photo-shoot and Isabelle was counting on him. He couldn't let her down.

You'd think the most stressful part of all this would be finding a studio, or booking more models. No. The worst part were Kurt's friends! He had never wanted to kill them more in his entire life. They did nothing for him; they in fact made everything harder.

 _"OHMYGOSH, Kurt, this is so cute. I want to wear it." Rachel said, shoving an orange with purple stripped pant suit in his face._

 _Kurt wanted to kick her. "No, Rachel. You're suppose to be looking at skirts!"_

 _"Kurt, I'm just going to take like all these dresses because I look like a fucking queen in each and every one of them," Santana said with five dresses folded over her shoulder._

 _Kurt's eyes almost flew out of his socket. He dropped his note-filled clip board and ran to her, grabbing the dresses away. "Do you know how expensive these are? You can't just carry them around like their your rag-doll!," he exclaimed, looking at her as if she were an eight year old child._

 _"Ok, calm down, lady trousers," she said, rolling her eyes at his aggressive tone. She went right back to clawing at the dresses._

 _What Kurt saw next almost made him want to pull all of his wonderfully coiffed chestnut hair out. "SAM EVENS," his voice was incredibly high yet equally frightening. "YOU. DO NOT. PUT ON. WOMAN'S. HEELS!"_

He has never seen a week and a half go by so fast. Kurt has been subject to these out-of-body experiences for awhile now and he felt as if he were going absolutely mad.

When the day finally came however, Kurt felt relatively controlled. He was ready to kick this pretty little photo shoot in the ass. Granted his nerves were bad and he was shaking slightly. But he was still ready and set to go.

Kurt was currently standing next to the camera, on the day of the photo-shoot. He looked down at his clip bored; making sure every thing was in place, when a strong and comfortable set of hands began to massage his shoulders. He could smell Blaine's glorious scent from anywhere.

"You need to relax, Kurt," Blaine whispered softly in his ear.

With Kurt's shoulders under Blaine's hands, he did feel somewhat more relaxed. Kurt leaned his head back slightly, giving into the hands. "This has been the longest and the hardest week of my life," he stressed aloud.

Blaine smiled and turned Kurt toward him, looking him eye-to-eye. "It's almost over," he said simply.

Kurt paused to actually considering the thought of all this ending. Granted is was hard and very draining, but Kurt secretly loved these feelings. He'd much rather have to stress over which outfit to pick for one of the models, than turning in some 20-paged essay. "Which makes me extremely melancholy," he noticed. "I mean yeah, it's been crazy, but I've also never had so much fun before," he said honestly, his hear warming at the fortunate stress.

Blaine smiled at him.

Kurt laughed, glaring at him playfully. "I see what you did there."

Blaine nodded his head proudly, happy he could put a smile on Kurt's face.

Kurt glanced down at his watch and then momentarily panicked. He yelled out to the crowd of models, photographers, and techs. "30 MINUTES, PEOPLE. GET READY. THIS HAS TO BE PERFECT!"

Blaine chuckled at the man. "I love you," he said as he watched Kurt stress with passion.

Kurt blushed. "I love you too."

"Kurt. Can I speak to you for a second?" Isabelle said, surprising everyone with her presence.

Kurt nodded, giving Blaine a look before walking over to her, worried. "Yes?," he said slowly.

"You're doing really, really well, considering it's your first run," she said.

Kurt smiled at her words, knowing she wasn't here to just compliment him. "Thank you. I really want this to be great." He said, nervously.

"It will be."

Kurt smiled wider. She was most definitely his 'fairy godmother'. "Is that why you wanted to talk or is there something wrong?" As he asked her, he began to freak out. He worked so hard. He payed attention to every detail. Nothing can be wrong!

Isabelle shook her head, grabbing his wrist. She could see his wheels turning. "No, Kurt. There is nothing wrong. You are doing a fantastic job."

Kurt let out a sigh. "Ok. So what did you want to say?," he asked innocently.

Isabelle paused for a moment, obviously cautioning herself. "I think you're brilliant and I love watching you work..." She trailed off.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, sensing the but. "But..."

"But the designers that have stopped by and saw what you were doing with their clothes, didn't necessarily agree with that opinion."

"Oh." Kurt was confused as to why they would be so cold, considering how wonderful a shoot it was. He decided to go for Bohemian Chic. Everyone was different and they all represented a different lifestyle. It worked beautifully. But he knew the business and knew he had to cater to the designers. "Ok" He said slowly, spurn to change. "What do they not like about it? How- how can I fix it?" he asked, knowing Isabelle would help him.

Isabelle smiled fondly at his readiness to learn more. "They love the idea; absolutely adore it. It's just," her smile faltered. "One of the models; one of your models, doesn't quite fit the clothes they want featured in the magazine."

He was confused. "What?" His friends looked absolutely amazing in the clothes. "Who? They all look beautiful."

Isabelle sighed. "I'm going to be as straight as I can be with you, Kurt. You're friend; the bigger one," she nodded towards a smiling Mercedes as Kurt's heart dropped. "The designers don't want her." She looked sad but her voice was hard.

Kurt's eyebrows drew forward in a frown. "That's ludicrous. Mercedes Jones is a star. She is curvaceous and beautiful, and if these close-minded designers don't like that, then they can suck it because she's staying." He said a little too quickly, not caring enough to realize he just said the words 'suck it' in front of his boss.

Isabelle didn't say anything. She knew Kurt would come to the right conclusion.

Kurt wasn't stupid. He knew that the designers had the final say and if he wanted to keep this gig, he would have to handle the situation. Kurt sighed slightly defeated. "What do you want me to do: push her to the back. I can't just kick her out!"

Isabelle looked at him sadly. "Kurt," she started in her I'm-handing-out-wisdom voice. "In this industry, you are going to have to make choices. Choices that are wrong and choices you don't agree with. However, that's the job."

Kurt hated that she was right. Dammit! Why hadn't he thought of this? _Probably cause Mercedes is gorgeous and anybody would love to be as beautiful and confident as her!_

Isabelle squared her shoulders and looked him right in the eye. "You have to make choices that will hurt people and that will help people. If you can't do that, then your'e in the wrong profession, honey."

Kurt shook his head. If he were in charge, he would march up to those no-good designers and pop them in the throat. This is harsh and cruel, and Kurt hated that he would have to do this to his friend.

She sat her hand on his shoulder. "Little helpful advice: Don't mix friends with business. It never ends nice." She gave him a pat before walking away.

Kurt through his head back in defeat, letting out a sigh. Not only was he going to have to get rid of one of the models; whom was a very big part of the scene, but he also had to tell his friend something that no one should ever have to hear; especially not from him.

When Kurt turned, he saw Blaine. He wasn't entirely sure what he was thinking, considering he had a look that read 'unreadable'. But what Kurt did know was that Blaine had just heard his boss telling him that he has to get rid of Mercedes do to the way she looks.

"Blaine..." He started without knowing the end. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Are you going to do it?," he asked, his voice even. "Are you really about to go and kick Mercedes out of this photo-shoot?" His voice was deep, as if daring Kurt to say the right answer.

Kurt rubbed the back of his neck. This week needs to be over like NOW! "Blaine, I don't have a choice," he said, defeat evident in his voice. "Please understand."

Blaine looked at him, fury and bewilderment in his eyes. "Understand?," he repeated. "No, I won't understand. Mercedes is beautiful. Any woman would be lucky to be as beautiful inside and out!" His voice wasn't rising, which scared Kurt. "I can't believe you would do that to her; that you would do that to anyone!"

When Blaine was angry and he didn't yell, it meant he was furious and he would have to go boxing. And Kurt hated when Blaine went boxing.

"Blaine. I know Mercedes is beautiful. But like I said before: I have no choice." He really wanted Blaine to see where he was coming from. It wouldn't make telling Mercedes easier but it would make it less hard.

Blaine crossed his arms, shaking his head with disappointment. "You have a choice, Kurt," he said, knowing that, that choice would be the hardest for the taller man. "You do. And you're about to make the wrong one."

Kurt had to believe that Mercedes would understand. This was his dream and opportunities like this don't always fall into your lap. If she didn't understand, Kurt would never be able to forgive himself. He shook his head and whispered: "I have to.."

"No," he said, raising his hand slightly. "And you know what, I don't want to be here when you tell Mercedes Jones that she's not skinny enough to be in some hackneyed magazine."

Kurt let it go. He had to assume Blaine was only saying this out of anger.

Blaine frowned, shaking his head. "I'm leaving," he said as he turned toward the exit.

"Blaine..." Kurt tried but Blaine just shook his head again, leaving the studio.

No matter how much Kurt wanted to go after him, he couldn't. This is something he couldn't worry about now. Granted, he was going to have to do major damage control when he got home, he needed to handle Mercedes first.

Kurt had to take a moment to breath before he walked back into the sea of people.

When he spotted Mercedes, smiling and laughing with the stand by models, his heart began to race. He didn't want to do this.

Kurt sighed heavily before walking over to her. "Mercedes," he began slowly. "I need to talk to you."

Mercedes excused herself as she walked away from the group. She smiled at Kurt widely. "Kurt, this place is amazing," she exclaimed. "Everyone looks so good, and I don't look half bad myself," she joked, obviously knowing she looked stunning. She wore an oxford blue v-neck top, with white sleeves. A beige belt tied neatly over a long ruby red skirt that flowed elegantly. She topped it off marvelously with a beige bowler hat, as she stood barefoot, absolutely amazed. "Rachel is bouncing off the walls, it's hilarious."

Kurt wanted to cry, listening to her talk. She was radiant and he was about to pore pigs blood all over her.

"Oh, I saw Blaine leave, you might want to go get him. I figure we're about to start." She laughed with excitement. "Again, Kurt. I just want to say thank you. This is the coolest thing I have ever done! And I can totally use one of these pictures for my album when it comes out." Her smile couldn't get any bigger.

Kurt looked at her as tears built in his eyes.

Mercedes could obviously see he was about to cry. "What's wrong, boo?" Her voice became soft as she tilted her head.

Kurt took a deep breath before wiping his eyes hard. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Mercedes blinked, not sure why he was apologizing. "What for?"

Kurt stood taller, straightening his back. He had to be strong. He had to do this. "I have to be the one to tell you this, because I love you," he began, sincerity in his eyes. "I think you are one of the most dazzling people I have met, honest. It's just..." He sighed, not sure how to put it as painless as possible. "This is vogue, M. Vogue is viewed by many people. Looked up to by many people. Vogue has been around for many years and has kept up a pretty consistent image." Mercedes had obviously caught on because her face fell noticeably. Kurt's heart was breaking with each word. "Some of the creators of these clothes which whom the magazine helps get customers, don't really want that image to be changed."

Mercedes shook her head slowly. "Fancy way of saying I'm too fat, Kurt" she said bluntly. It wasn't really a question. Just a statement that hurts Kurt worse than her actually accusing him.

She wasn't looking at him. It's as if she lost all respect for Kurt in that very moment.

"I'm not saying that at all, love." His voice broke as he looked into her eyes, praying that she believes him. "I just don't think that this photo-shoot is a very good fit for you." He could hardly get the words out, hating every sound. Kurt Hummel would never do this.

But he was. He was doing this and there is no taking it back.

Mercedes looked him hard in the eyes, hurt evident. "I've been called hateful names; treated badly by many people in my lifetime, Kurt. I'd think you of all people would understand that. I never thought something like this would come from you." She nodded her head, tears forming involuntarily. Mercedes Jones has always been a very strong woman and Kurt can't help but feel like he just tore his best friend down.

Kurt's hand flew to his heart. "I am so, so sorry, M. Please-." He didn't get to finish. Mercedes turned and walked away from the photo-shoot, leaving no room for more conversation.

Kurt has to question if she's actually walking away from their friendship as well.

Kurt gnawed at his bottom lip as he watched another go.

Kurt exhaled deeply; mentally preparing himself, before turning back the models and crew workers. He squared his shoulders for the umpteenth time, ready to get through the shoot. "LET'S GET THIS GOING."

It was ten minutes later. Kurt had been shuffling things around last minute, trying to get everyone in the right places - he was actively trying not to pull out his hair even though he could virtually feel the strands falling without any help- when Santana came up to him with a ferocious madness in her eyes.

Kurt was already stressed enough with Mercedes being dropped and Blaine leaving. He did not have the brain capacity for a random sassy diva bitch moment. "What, Santana? I do not have time for this," he spoke, barely glancing up from his clip board.

"What the hell did you say to Mercedes?," she demanded.

Kurt looked at her briefly before shaking his head. "Not now," he said, turning away from her. He felt awful enough as it is. Having Santana say aloud possibly every negative thought he had, was not something he wanted to hear right now.

Santana tore at his arm, swinging him around to face her. " Why the fuck did she just leave the studio crying, saying: you called her too fat for this damn photo-shoot?" She was seething. Santana may be a complete ass-whole to her friends sometimes, but she did love them. And when Santana loved, she loved assiduously and solid.

Kurt eyes closed at the harsh sentence. "I didn't say that..." he spoke, his voice slow and quiet.

"Then what hell did you say? Because if you don't fix this: I'm leaving, and so are the rest of your friends," she warned, her voice rising.

Kurt eyes widened at the idea. "No, you can't leave! The photo-shoot starts in ten!"

"THEN BRING HER BACK!"

It sounded so simple. And Kurt wanted nothing more than to take it back, but he knew just as well as the designers that he couldn't. "I can't." He tried sounding strong and firm with his choice, however it came out sounding of defeat.

Santana was completely flabbergasted. "Wow, Hummel. I mean this is low, even for you." She turned around.

"You can't just leave, Santana," he said again, trying to stop her.

She turned around, hair whipping. "You'd think that if you have to choose between your friends and some photo-shoot, that you'd actually spare us the hard feelings," she said, laughing humorlessly. "I may be a bitch, but I would never bring my friends up, just to strike them back down again," she finished, shaking her head in disapproval.

She called to Sam, Tina, and Rachel; telling them to come with her.

Kurt stood, watching his friends leave. His heart was currently on the ground, in a corner somewhere, wallowing in agony.

He wasn't worried about loosing models; he had standby models. No, he was worried about the people he called family. He would never intentionally hurt his friends...

Would he?

 **.**

 **TINA**

 **.**

Kurt Hummel has been working at Vogue Magazine for essentially three years now. He started out as just an intern his freshman year of college. However, now the well-dressed mod gentleman made his way up to 2nd to the Editor-and-Chief; Isabelle Wright. He also had a feature section in the magazine. He hasn't designed anything for said label yet, which almost frightened him, considering the 'moving up' has been on pause this past year. But It all seemed too good to be true for the 21-year old fashionista. He had always been ahead of the curve, so he worried not, worked with the flow, and let life take him on his journey.

Tina Cohen-Chang has been working at Vogue Magazine for about a year and a half. Kurt had actually gotten her the job. "She's my friend. I know she is a solid worker and extremely dependable. There is no one more ideal." Kurt really put in a good word for her. She hasn't jumped the curve nearly as much as Kurt but she was getting paid well and loved what she did.

Kurt walked into his office on a charming Thursday morning. He had his mocha in hand and his bushiness shoulders up. Today was a very important day. The creator of Vogue was stopping by to check on the employees.

His name was Joc Konny. He was a dreadful man. He'd fire people just to see them cry. He wanted his employees to be like him: hard and uncaring. The only person not afraid of him was Isabelle; the Editor-and-Chief. Kurt liked to think it was because they had erotic relations outside Vogue offices; everyone adores a good love story. But he knew it was because Isabelle was a total bad-ass while Joc gave homosexual an utterly unique meaning.

Kurt sat himself down in his seat and began sorting some designs placed on his desk from yesterday. He had to look presentable before Joc arrived. Joc didn't like disorganization. So the man definitely wouldn't care for how it looked on a daily bases; people running around stressed, hair above their heads in ways that could only be described as atrocious. No, not today. Today they were polished and neat.

Kurt tossed his empty coffee cup in the trash just as a small knock was heard from the door. He began work on his laptop as he waved his co-worker in. "Morning, Tina."

"Good morning, Kurt," she greeted, sounding stuffy. "I was just coming to check on you," she began, walking further into his office. "I know last time Joc came, we all almost got fired." She frowned slightly, letting out a cough.

Kurt raised his eyebrow. "Tina, I am fond of your concern, though I like to think Isabelle has my back," he said honestly. "You and I; we worked our asses off to get here. I promise, neither of us is getting fired today." Kurt said this with confidence. He had faith in their skills.

Tina's frown morphed into an extensive smile just before she let out a heart-wrenching sneeze.

Kurt's figure recoiled at the sound; he could have flew out of his seat. His face contorted into a confused yet frightened expression. He studied her for a second before shaking his head slowly. "What the hell was that?"

Tina had to take a deep breath before she spoke. "I'm sorry. I think-" a sniff. "I think I caught something a couple of days ago." She sniffed again, wiping her nose clean with the tissue Kurt hadn't noticed was in her hand.

Kurt eyed, sadly. "What are you doing here, Sweety?," he asked, concern wavering in his voice. "You need to go home and get some rest, right now."

Tina's throat barked again as she shook her head. "You know what happens to people that miss days like this," she explained, referring to Joc's future arrival.

"Tina, you're health is much more important than kissing up to some narcissistic ass-whole!"

Tina sniffed, bringing the tissue she had in her hand up to her face again, blowing hard. "I'm not leaving, Kurt," she said, leaving no room for argument.

Kurt tried again, honestly worried for his friend. "Please, Tina..."

Tina began walking away. "No, Kurt. I am not getting fired today," she finished, leaving before Kurt could say anything.

Kurt looked at the now empty space, shaking his head. "Tina, Tina, Tina," he said aloud. No matter how worried he was for his friend, he admired her mental abundance of strength.

Kurt went back to his computer again, busying himself before Joc's landing.

.

.

 **TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER**

 **.**

Kurt tried his damnedest to not drive himself mad. Isabelle usually called meetings about this time, but decided to wait till Joc came. So he tried to distract himself from the hectic nerves running through his body. He cleaned his desk out, made his usual runs, and even stooped to casual conversations with the interns for no absolute reason, only to come back to his office with 35 minutes having gone by. He decided he would check his emails. All kinds of people try to get in contact with Kurt: designers, wanna-be-designers, etc, etc. What better way waste time?

Just as he opened his account, an email from Tina appeared..

.

.

 _ **FROM: Tina**_

 _ **To: Kurt Hummel**_

 _ **SUBJECT: Joc, the boss man...**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _He's Here._

 _._

It's only two words yet it still made Kurt's leg bounce to an impossible rhythm. Joc was here. Joc was in the building and Kurt had no more coffee. This day was going to be preposterous.

Kurt inhaled deeply as he mentally readied himself as best he could. Time all of a sudden decided to take a break and move unnecessarily slow.

He continued to study his email, not entirely sure if he had fully comprehended yet.

After thirty minutes of the ominous man not being seen by Kurt, he began to grow weary. Was he ever going to hear from this man or not?

Just as he thought it, there was another knock on his door. Tina stood next to Joc, looking rather anxious. "This is Kurt Hummel's office," she said as politely as she can, sounding even worse than before.

Kurt stood, welcoming them into the room. Tina held back as Joc walked further into Kurt's office. The handsome man wore a white button up; top buttons unbuttoned, with a orange blazer. He had tan khaki's on with an even tanner set of loafers. His hair was obviously dyed brown considering his black roots. It was coiffed, however not nearly as perfect as Kurt's. The way he stood made him look like a taller version of Chuck Bass, only more douche; if that were possible.

Joc stood directly in front of Kurt; opposite his desk. He lifted a hand. "Go fetch us some coffee, dear," he spoke to Tina, not burdening himself with a glance back.

Kurt had to physically try and not make a face at the man. Joc was rude, for no absolute reason. If there's one thing Kurt despised, it was injustice.

Tina let out another cough before sliding out of the door, doing as she was told.

Joc leaned in closer, resting his hands on Kurt's desk. He stood face-to-face with Kurt and didn't even bat an eyelash. "Nice office," he began smoothly. "If I knew you well enough I'd say it looked just like you." Kurt wasn't sure if it was a line or not but the way Joc was looking is the reason it was brought into question in the first place.

If Kurt were honest, this man was gorgeous. His voice was velvet and could probably make anyone melt. However, seeing as he hasn't been in Kurt's office no more than ten minutes and he already came off as a dick, spoke otherwise. Fuckery and douche-baggery is an immediate turnoff. Hell, the man didn't even introduce himself. Kurt shook his head slightly. "Thank you," he said formally. "Working hard really does pay off." He sounded slightly sassy. He didn't like this man.

Joc eyed him for a second before his mouth curved into an obnoxious smirk. "You work with Izi, right?"

Kurt took in a breath, crossing his arms as he stood up slightly straighter. Joc just brought up his job. "Indirectly," he informed.

"Mm," he hummed with a nod. He looked into Kurt's eyes, ideally thinking it meant something. "You like it? You're ok with where you are?," he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Kurt's face scrunched up in confusion. "Of course I like my job, sir" he said as if it were obvious. "And there's always a reason to work harder."

Joc's smirk has yet to waver. The man began walking slowly around Kurt's desk. "Can I just say," he began, looking at Kurt in places no boss should. "Those pants should be worn by no one but you." He chuckled at his own joke, moving in closer to Kurt. "Or you know, not you. If you catch my drift." He lifted his eyebrows before winking suggestively at Kurt.

Kurt Hummel was shocked. It was very rare; Kurt being left unable to speak. Why does this happen to him? These amazingly attractive men have the worst possible personalities and they think that because of the fact, they have the right to be a dick to anyone they want. This man was blunt and an ass-whole at it's very finest. Joc was his boss and yet he was flirting with him in ways only Blaine was allowed.

Saved by the bell, Tina walked in with their coffees. "Here you go...," her voice trailed off slightly at the sight.

"Thank you, Tina," Kurt said nervously.

Tina eyed him as she set down the coffees. Just as she let the cups go, she let out another one of those heart breaking sneezes that could most likely blow your brains out.

Joc jumped back as Kurt shook his head sadly. Joc turned to Tina looking at her as if she were a lunatic. All he did was look at her. He didn't speak, just watched. Obviously he wanted her to leave and never come back.

Tina took a deep breath before turning shamefully and walking out of Kurt's office.

Joc turned back to Kurt, moving forward. He looked at him as if they shared some deep intimate secret.

Kurt's eyeballs started roll and glare before he had to refocus. This was one of his bosses.

"Fire her."

Kurt blinked. He wasn't easily grasping what the taller man said, considering how awful it sounded. And the fact that he was closing in on Kurt; forcing him trapped against the wall behind his desk, didn't really help the situation either. "What?," he asked slowly, eyes wide.

Joc moved in closer. Kurt could now feel his breath on his cheek and let me tell you, it was hot. Kurt didn't ask to come into work this morning only to be forced into a makeshift sauna!

Joc leaned in to whisper in Kurt's ear. "Fire her," he said again, and actually had the audacity to lick Kurt's ear.

Kurt didn't like this at all. "One: This is beyond inappropriate. You are my boss," he said, slightly angry at the harassment. "Personal space should be virtuous." This man had no right. Who does he think he is? "And two: Why in hell would I fire her?," he asked, apparently not caring that Joc had the potential to ruin his career.

Joc let out a low chuckle, not moving away from Kurt in the slightest. "How 'bout I make you a deal, mate?," he smiled.

Kurt let out a breath in which Joc open his mouth, breathing it in. Kurt closed his mouth immediately, disgusted by the tall man. "What?," he spat.

Joc's face grew into a wider smile as he felt Kurt grow more annoyed. "Fire her and you got yourself next in line for Editor-and-Chief," he said, causing Kurt's eyes to bug out. "Or don't fire her and stay where you are. Stay at this level, where I know full and well that you know," He enunciated the words unnecessarily. "This is as far as you go," he finished with a smug smile.

Kurt stayed silent for a second, not sure how to respond.

Joc placed his hands on Kurt's hips domestically. "I know this industry. I know the people and I know how to make it. With my help, babe," he licked his own lips. "You can have anything you want."

This man might very well be a sociopath. Kurt didn't know how to respond to this guy. It's as if he did things just to get a laugh. It didn't matter who he hurt; or in Kurt's case: who he harassed. If it put a smile on his own face, no love lost. _Selfish bastard_. Kurt was angry.

Kurt leaned in, lips seconds a way from each other. He whispered against the mans lips. "I have everything I want. However, in this moment, what I want is for you to remove your hands from around my waist." He gave his best bitch glare. "I have half a mind to pop my knee and remove any chances of you ever having children. And then proceed to sue you for sexual harassment." Kurt looked him dead in the eyes, disgust and hate written on his face. Kurt really wished Blaine was here so he could make this man afraid.

Joc backed away, chuckling. He raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright," he said, beginning to walk to the door. "But you will fire her," he nodded, knowing Kurt wouldn't decline his offer. "I know people like you: you're smart and wise. You won't let some assistant stay just so you can make her happy; not when your career is at stake." Joc looked Kurt dead in the eyes, pronouncing every word. "You. Want. To. Win."

Kurt came up short. He was wrong, Joc had to be wrong. However, the devil on Kurt's shoulder was currently chewing his earlobe away, and Kurt didn't know how to fight it.

Joc stood at the door. "We're just alike, you and me. You'll do anything to get to the top." He smiled. "Don't let me down, Hummel," he finished, tapping the door before walking out of his office.

.

.

Kurt stood motionless for what felt like an hour, which in actuality was only about eight minutes.

He couldn't fire Tina. Tina was his friend. They've known each other since high school. He couldn't just throw that out the window for just some raise.

But that's just it. It wasn't just some raise. This was his dream. He was so close, he could almost feel it. Kurt felt his eyes water at not only the thought of taking away one of the things that helps his friend pay for college, but also at how much he wanted this. How much he wanted to be the next Editor-and-Chief. "It's not fair," he cried aloud. It's not fair that he has to take away someone else's dream just to fulfill his own.

Maybe Joc was right. They were alike. Maybe Kurt was a selfish douche-bag. This is just like with Mercedes. It was the coiffed hair that ruined it for him. The hairspray has gone to his head and now he's thinking nonsensical.

Before he could drive himself even madder, Tina knocked on the door. "Hey, honey," she said sympathetically.

Kurt looked up at her as he sat down at his desk. "Hey." He sighed.

Tina coughed into her tissue as she came closer. "How was it?," she asked, concerned for her friend.

Kurt sighed and looked down. "Draining."

Tina nodded in complete understanding. "Well, he left our floor, so I think I'm just gonna head home," she spoke, sniffling.

As Tina began walking out, Kurt's voice spoke quietly. "You're fired."

Tina turned around rubbing her nose aggressively with he tissue. "What? Sorry, my ears are crazy stopped up. What'd you say?," she asked, sweetly.

Kurt looked in her eyes again before turning away. He knew what he was about to do and yet his brain wouldn't stop him from saying it. "I'm- I'm firing you, Tina," he said louder and slower.

Tina let her hand fall from her face. "What?"

Kurt couldn't bring himself to look at her. "... I'm sorry..."

Tina shook her head. "You... You're firing me?," she couldn't believe her stuffed up ears. She looked at him, leaning down to look him in the eyes. Kurt wouldn't even meet her eyes, which only enraged her further.

"At lease look at me when you do it!," her voice was hard and bitter.

Kurt hated himself. He had no words for this.

"Do you remember the conversation-" she sniffed. "We had right before Joc came in?" She coughed. "You promised me neither one of us is getting fired today," Cough. "And then YOU of all people," Sneeze. "GO AND FIRE ME?!," she started yelling, but began coughing historically instead.

Kurt could have cried at the sight. He knew how angry she was but she really sounded sick and miserable. It broke his heart to pieces and he wished he could take back everything. But his future was on the line and it turns out Kurt Hummel thought Kurt Hummel was a selfish bastard and so he had to act like one. He stood with his arms out, trying to assuage his own guilt and make his friend feel better. "Tina... I'm-"

Tina shook her head. "Don't you dare apologize to me." Tears fell down her face as he stood and looked deep into Kurt's eyes. She squared her shoulder, wiped her nose, and spoke. "Some friend," she said before walking out.

Kurt watched her leave. "Dammit!" He slammed his fist down on the table and slumped in his chair. He might have just screwed over one of the sweetest people he's ever known.

But he had to think of his long-run; his future. That is what inevitably stopped him from running after Tina.

 **.**

.

* * *

 **Well, that's it for chapter two. I promise, it'll get better. ^.^ Leave a review and tell me what you think so far. (:**

 **Next chapter: The Amnesia! (:**

 **Btw: If you like this story, send me a** **prompt. I'd love to include you guys in this.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Accident

**I thank you guys for reading. 8D**

 **I thank you guys for the reviews, honest. (:**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable...**

 **Disclaimer No.2: I do not have a Beta so please excuse small errors if found ( hopefully not). ^.^**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

.

 **NOW**

.

Kurt's officially decided that he did not like feelings. He in fact despised them and he would no longer have them. Granted, despising emotions is very much a feeling, but he didn't care.

After the whole 'let's team up on Kurt and then drop him like a hat' debacle, Kurt took to alcohol; for about two weeks actually. He would wake up at two in the afternoon, only to go back to sleep until six in the afternoon. He'd then go to some club far beyond his physical address. He'd drink, flirt and then leave.

He considered trying the one night stand situation but when he'd meet some guy and actually get to the sleeping with him part, he'd end up comparing them to Blaine. Ending with him thinking of Blaine, whom was the last person Kurt wanted to think of. So he'd flee the scene only to go home to drink until he couldn't remember what he was drinking for.

Kurt would have visitors; the word visitors being used extremely lightly. He'd have people come to his house and bang on his door. He would never answer. He'd just stand at the door and listen to them bang. Whether it be Tina coming to check on him for the second time that day, Mercedes bringing him food because she knows he's not eating, or Isabelle telling him he was fired; he didn't care. He wanted to be left alone and so he made sure of it. What's crazy is no one had actually come in, considering how many keys were handed out.

He knew he should not have declined the Mercedes and Tina bangs, taking in account all he's done to them. They made it a point to come and check on him albeit his knife was currently resting comfortably in their backs.

The fact that Rachel Berry has been none of the victims whopping on his door, effectively hurt him. No matter how hard he tried to not think about it, the more he _did_ think about it. Not only did it sadden him but it also confused him. Rachel had moved all her things out as quickly as possible; taking her two days. Kurt had no idea where she was staying but he did know that she hasn't come back here. He hasn't answered anyone's phone calls in two weeks so he had no way of actually finding out.

Kurt wasn't nearly as surprised to not have Blaine banging on his door. Hell! He would have been shocked if Blaine actually had showed face. Kurt hadn't really thought of Blaine much since he walked out. He physically made it his mission to not think of the man. It hurt far too much. The only proof Kurt had of them actually being real was the fact that Blaine hadn't said goodbye.

It was such a small thing to hold onto but it was the only thing Kurt had left of him. So Kurt would hold onto that for dear life, until he was ready and knew it was time to let go.

However for now, Kurt would detach and drink. He still had a good month and a half before senior year at NYADA started and he did just get fired from Vogue; which oddly hadn't hit him yet. Considering how hard he worked, losing some of the people he cared about due to the job was not worth it. Anyway, Kurt had time. He had time to waste and time to quote-unquote heal.

Yet Kurt was pretty positive that the rode he was riding down was not one of recovery.

The third week was when things got rough. The visits from Tina and Mercedes grew smaller. Kurt grew bored of the clubs; he even stooped to riding all the way out to Chinatown. Kurt also began to worry about his drinking habits. He knew he wasn't an alcoholic; at least he hoped for it, he just liked the feeling of relief when he drank.

He missed designing and singing. He hadn't gotten paid for doing any of it, it was just sort of some things he did in his free time. It made him feel whole, like no matter what happens; no matter how heartbroken he may have felt, he would always have his voice and his designs. But lately it's as if all he did was sleep and drink. He may have missed those things, but that apparently wasn't enough to make him care.

Wallowing and withering away slowly had become his sport, and he would bask in it as long as his integrity was isolated.

Kurt knew that his rugged ways had come to an end when he heard a very aggressive banging on his front door on an early Thursday morning.

"Go away," Kurt grumbled, nowhere near loud enough for it to actually be heard.

The banging ceased to stop which only made Kurt groan deeper into his bed.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. If you do not open this door at once, I will knock it down," said a deep, man voice.

Kurt knew immediately. He's never stood and ran so fast in his entire life. The deadly headache he had didn't hit him until he made it to the door. He stood halt for a moment, dizzy and nauseous. _Worst. Idea. Ever._

"Kurt, open the door," the voice demanded again.

Kurt was frightened. He hadn't had any company and it obviously showed considering his desolate apartment's appearance looked... well lived in.

Still, no matter how desperate Kurt felt about keeping the door closed, he couldn't. So he mentally settled himself; as much he could, and slowly slid the door open.

There, in his door way stood The Burt Hummel. Flannel and baseball cap ready for attack.

Kurt hadn't spoken to Burt or Carole since he slid down the deep end.

It's not that he didn't want to speak with them. He in fact, missed them immensely. It's just that he didn't want to burden them. They had enough to worry about with Finn's passing, Burt's stressful campaign for governor, and Carol taking double shifts just to pay for the hospital visits and the healthy food Burt had to eat due to his previous heart attack. _The fact that you could go out and get a disgustingly greasy burger for three dollars, but getting a healthy salad cost twice that, is absolutely ludicrous._ Kurt was an adult; he could handle his problems without his parents.

"Hey, Burt," Kurt started, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

Burt walked passed him, and began pacing in the living room. "Where the hell have you been, kid?" Burt sounded angry and concerned all at once.

Kurt should have known his dad would show up sooner or later. Considering who Burt Hummel was, it was a surprise he hadn't shown up sooner.

He slid the door closed, slowly turning to his pacing father. He sighed before speaking. "Dad, what are you doing here?" he countered.

Burt stopped pacing and stood facing Kurt, arms crossed. "Rachel called." He said it as if it were the simplest thing ever. As if Rachel had actually spoken to Kurt within the last month.

This was the first Kurt had heard anything relatively close to how Rachel was doing. The fact that she had the audacity of calling his father instead of calling him, made Kurt slightly angry. _Friends. Some word!_

Burt continued. "She said you haven't been to work in forever, you've been drinking like crazy," _How the hell would she even know that?_ "And that you and Blaine broke up?" Burt shook his head. "What is going on Kurt? Why haven't you been answering my calls, dammit?" Burt looked extremely sad, considering his voice was rising.

Kurt couldn't say anything with the guilt clogging his throat. He hadn't realized how awful it's been until he looked into his father's eyes.

Burt moved a little closer to his son. "Why, kiddo?" he asked again. His voice was softer now. Kurt was about to interject when Burt stopped him. "And don't say it's because you're an adult now and you can handle your own issues."

Kurt shook his head wistfully at how well the man knew him.

"I am here, always, son. I am your father, and I love you no matter what. But I can't show you that if you won't let me. I can't do that if you don't let me in," he exclaimed, his voice sounding stressed. "I love you, baby boy. And even when I have a million things at home to worry about, I will ALWAYS have time for you." The sincerity in his eyes could scare a person. "If you can't talk to anyone, Kurt; anyone at all. You can sure as hell talk to me." He knew the last sentence didn't actually make sense. Nonetheless, Kurt understood.

Kurt eyes watered lightly at his father's words. He knew he was hurting his family by neglecting them, he just never considered to such extent. He upset his father, and that is truly something Kurt could not take. "I'm sorry." Kurt said quietly, shaking his head with nothing else to say.

They stood there for a second, staring. Father and son, each hurting for very different reasons.

Then it happened.

Kurt Hummel realized in that very moment that he didn't want to fight anymore. That despising feelings only makes a person feel worse and he was tired in ways that no well-off 21-year old should be.

 _It's not fair._

Kurt fell into his father, wailing; sobbing into his shoulder. Every little thing that had been bottled up came out with each cry.

It's not fair that his father was hurting right now. It isn't fair that Blaine and his friends were hurting right now. And the worst part is that Kurt knew it was all because of him; at least 90 percent of it was.

He shooed all his friends away; forced them to have nothing to do with him. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.

Kurt could feel the pain; he always felt the pain. It's just now that his father was here and he couldn't cower away from his problems anymore, the ache ate at him more vigorously.

He lost Vogue.

He lost one of the few things in life he knew he could control; that he knew if he worked hard enough, he would succeed further than his own imagination could dream. The idea that he could actually see his ambitions, and aspirations coming true, and he all but slashed them down; burning them at the imaginary stake with no remorse, broke something inside of him. Vogue was the gig of a lifetime and Kurt let it slip right through his fingers.

So the cries came harder.

Back in high school, Kurt would have promised on anything that these people; his friends, would be in his life forever. That yes, they would go through their ups and downs, but after it's all said and done, they'd still have their Monday night dinners. He loved each and every one of them and he's frightened at the fact that they may never be able to trust his friendship again.

So the cries came harder.

He lost Blaine. _Oh God_ , his Blaine. Just the thought makes Kurt's body weak. Blaine and Kurt were soulmates. They made so many promises together; promises that Kurt feared; do to the circumstances, Blaine was the only one able to keep. Kurt lied, cheated, and ultimately just gave in. He was angry because he let himself be manipulated. It wasn't supposed to end that way. They were supposed to be together. Kurt had feared there would be break-ups in their future, but he knew they would always work it out. However this, this didn't feel like a break up. It felt like an agony-filled end.

Part of him feels like he should be fighting for Blaine. That he should have sobered up; at least for a day, and try to fix what could possibly be left over for them.

However, the drunken side of him thought thoroughly different. What Blaine said prior to walking out of their loft for what could be forever, hit Kurt in ways that he hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't Blaine fault; he was only speaking the truth. No, Blaine had every right. Every night when Kurt would drink and try and not think about Blaine's words; ultimately failing, he'd only convince himself further that he didn't deserve Blaine. Blaine deserved the world and obviously Kurt wasn't playing the right cards.

So the cries came harder.

 _It isn't fair._ That's all Kurt can think. It gets to the point of him mumbling it over and over which conclusively makes him feel worse.

Burt did what he could. He soothed his child, letting him break.

After what felt like hours, Kurt's sobs let up, becoming silent cries instead.

Burt pulled his son away from him. He held him by the shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. "I'm taking you home, kid. You need a break from this town," he said, his words final.

As they fell down on the couch, Burt continued to hold his broken son.

When Kurt finally started to breathe evenly again, Burt let him go. Leading him to quickly fall asleep on the hard furniture.

Sleep always did make his problems disappear; at least momentarily.

.

Kurt woke up, gasping for air. He wasn't under water, or being suffocated. All he knew was that a few seconds ago he couldn't breathe.

He open his eyes; eyelids heavy. This didn't look like his room or Burt's living room.

He was confused, unsure of his current position in space. He did know, however, this was definitely a hospital; a smelly and drab hospital room. The walls were a naked white with tiny flowers spotting randomly. As if they would somehow clog your mind with ignorance so you'd forget the fact that you're in a hospital.

"Why am I in a hospital?," he said aloud. The raspiness of his tone frightened him, like he hadn't spoken in a while.

It was then he realized that he wasn't alone. Santana Lopez was sitting in the chair next to his bed, starring at him warily.

He jumped slightly at her wide eyes.

"You're awake," she exclaimed as Kurt noticed her. "I'll go get the doctor." She stood and hurriedly left the room, leaving Kurt stunned and slightly confused.

Kurt tried to sit up but immediately grew dizzy. His hand flew to his head for comfort. He felt a wrap wrapped around it. _Oh my God, my hair. If they cut my hair, I swear..._

The door to his hospital room flew open; causing a dazed Kurt to be overwhelmed by people. Hovering over him stood Santana, his dad, a doctor, a nurse, and oddly enough Sebastian Smyth. _What the hell is he doing here?_ A taste of rage ran through his body. The nerve of some people truly blew Kurt's mind.

"Hey, Kiddo," Burt said softly, his smile almost radiant.

"Good to see you awake, Mr. Hummel. My name is Aaron and I am your doctor." the doctor spoke. The nurse started fiddling with the needles in his arm and then tended to his leg, which he just noticed was covered with a cast.

Kurt was internally growing unhinged. He had no clue as to why he was in a hospital and why Sebastian Smythe was standing at his bedside in Lima, Ohio. Hell, he didn't even remember getting here. Kurt hated hospitals. It hardly ever ended well, especially for The Hummel's.

"What's going on?," Kurt asked, his voice sounding small. Not knowing the answer caused him spooky amounts of aghast.

"You're in the hospital," Sebastian said from the corner. He had a look on his face that Kurt didn't recognize. It almost looked like sad humor. However, Kurt refused to think that Sebastian cared enough to feel sympathy for him. _Why the hell is he here?_ He had to keep thinking it because for the life of him, he couldn't think of a reason.

Kurt rolled his eyes, not even wanting to look at the man. "Why am I in a hospital?," He clarified to the doctor, blatantly ignoring Sebastian

Everyone in the room looked at him worriedly. Kurt couldn't stand the looks on their faces. He hated pity and it's like they couldn't hand out enough. It's if they knew some big secret about him that he didn't even know himself. "What?" he snaps.

"You were in a car accident." Doctor Aaron spoke softly, soothing almost.

Kurt shook his head in confusion. He doesn't remember being in a car accident.

The doctor continued. "You were admitted into the hospital eight days ago."

His eyes were wide with shock. "Eight days?"

"You fell into a coma about three hours after the accident," Doctor Aaron informed. "You're just now waking up." He finished with a smile.

Kurt blinked at the man, not understanding. "Why don't I remember being in an accident?"

"You banged your head pretty badly. You've got a cracked skull and a broken leg, some pretty bad bruises but that's about it. I would say you're lucky to be alive, but with determined yet wonderfully supportive people like this, I'm fairly certain they willed you awake themselves."

Kurt glanced over at Sebastian, who had a weird smirk on his face. _Wonderfully supportive, my ass!_ "What the hell are you doing here?" he finally said aloud. His voice was raised as he surprised everyone with the impromptu outburst.

Sebastian looked at him startled. "K, you were in a car accident and then fell into a coma." he said, as if the answer was obvious. "You could've died. What would you want me to do? Pretend like you were dead already?"

Even though Sebastian's words were hard, he still came off worried; Kurt could hear it in his voice. Still, no matter how distressed the man sounded, it still made Kurt's bones ache with rage. Why the hell would Sebastian come to a hospital just to see the man, who might very well be his arch nemesis, and worry for him? As if he had the right! "Isn't that what you do already?"

Sebastian gave him a strange look before his face ultimately morphed into confusion. "What?," he said, unsure of how to respond anymore.

"Leave, Sebastian. I don't even know why you're here. Is it so that you can mock the fact that Blaine and I just broke up?" he asked acrimoniously. Kurt tried to hide the fact that saying it out loud hurt. "Well, he isn't 'gonna want you, Honey. Which, I might add, is indisputable," he said smugly, hoping to get under his skin. "I hear you travel at insane speed, so dash off, Meerkat." He finished with a bitch-glare-in-a-hospital-gown look.

Sebastian's face went through a lot during Kurt's minute monologue. From slightly hurt, to confused, then to frightened. Kurt waited for the taller man to comeback with a silly reply, or better yet leave all together.

It never came.

Instead Sebastian stepped closer and then looked at the doctor. Kurt glared at him more before catching Santana and Burt's eyes. They looked even more worried than before. Kurt was getting really irritated at the fact that he has yet to find out what the hell was happening.

"What's wrong with him?" Sebastian asked the doctor bluntly.

"There is nothing wrong with me!"

Santana spoke next. "Did you say you and Blaine _just_ broke up?" her voice was slow. She looked incredibly soft, considering she was Santana Lopez.

Kurt faltered slightly.

Before he could say anything, Burt spoke up. "When exactly do you think you and Blaine broke up, Son?"

Kurt really didn't want to get into this, especially while he was lying in a very uncomfortable bed. "Dad, like a month ago. Come on, you know this. That's why you dragged me back here to Lima." Kurt rolled his eyes. He had a headache and really just wanted to go back to sleep. "As if that fixes anything," he mumbles that last part. He knew Burt had only the best intentions bringing Kurt back home. It's just that Kurt really liked New York; despite all its flaws, and he didn't work four years to get out of Lima, just to be pulled back. "Now can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"

Everyone had their version of pained expression on their faces.

Kurt couldn't take it any longer. "Why do you guys keep looking at me like that? " He said loudly, growing angry.

Sebastian was the one to drop the bomb. "Kurt, we're not in Lima, and you and Blaine broke up about two years ago," he said softly, trying to make it less upsetting.

Kurt came up short. He didn't know what to say and all his thoughts were in a million different places. _Two years ago? No, this couldn't be true. It doesn't make any sense._ He could quite literally feel his world slowly detaching into pieces, and he didn't know how to catch them. Two years is a very long time. He doesn't recall going back to New York. _Two years! This is insane._ He shook his head, refusing to accept that two years of his life was apparently missing. "No..."

Everyone's attention flew to the doctor for help. Aaron gave them a reassuring look before turning to Kurt. "Ok, Kurt. I am going to ask you a series of questions, and I want you to answer them to the best of your ability."

This doctor seemed very nice, almost gracious. However, at this very moment, Kurt couldn't stand the sight of him. "Ok..." he said, quietly.

"What is your name?"

Kurt rolled his eyes in impatience. "Kurt Hummel."

"Where were you born?"

"Here in Ohio."

Burt let out a tiny breath. He didn't have hair, but if he did, Kurt would probably be able to see them turn grey.

"Ok. What year is it?"

"2013," he said shyly. He glanced at the people in the room trying to get a sense of what they were thinking. They still, however had concerned looks on their faces, which basically made Kurt more nervous.

The doctor nodded simply. "Ok. And lastly: What is the very last thing you can remember before waking up here?"

Kurt took a moment to think about it. He doesn't even remember getting in a car. "I was sitting in my old home with dad and Carole. They had just made some lasagna," he said. He had just gotten to Ohio after the awkward "you want to talk about it?" plane ride with Burt.

Waking up on the couch after having some of Carols amazing lasagna sounded like a dream compared to this current situation.

The doctor wrote something down on his clipboard before speaking. "Ok, Mr. Hummel. That's it for now. I have to go back and look at some of your files really quick but from the looks of it, you might have Post-Traumatic Amnesia," he said, his voice even. "I will be back very soon with more information." He patted Kurt on the shoulder before exiting with the nurse, leaving Kurt with far too many questions.

"Post-Traumatic Amnesia...," Kurt's voice said in a whisper.

Burt came closer to his son and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be alright, Kiddo."

Kurt didn't look him in the eyes. If he did, he would break down. If he looked, it would make this situation eleven times worse. Because his dad use to be the man who could take all of his problems away. However, this time, Kurt knows that the man couldn't fix anything. "It's so easy for you to say that," he whispered. "But you aren't lying in this bed." He finished with a nod.

Burt squeezed his shoulders for reassurance, not necessarily helping anything.

Tears had started to form in his eyes involuntary. Two years of his entire life was missing. Two whole years and Kurt doesn't even know how to begin to remember it. He was confused and had so many questions.

"What year is it then? Are we even in Ohio?," he asked to everyone in general. "And again: what the hell are you doing here?" He looked at Sebastian. Then something dawned on him. "Oh my God,.." He had a fearful look in his eyes. "We're not together are we," he asked, disgust written on his lips.

The question received chuckles from Santana and Sebastian.

"It's 2015, Son. And we are in New York," Burt informed.

"And no. You and I are not together," Sebastian said. His face then altered into the meerkat smirk Kurt's known him for. "But that doesn't mean we didn't...you know," his voice trailed off, leaving the sentence way to open for Kurt's liking.

Kurt's eyes bugged out, he almost had a heart attack. Before he could demean Sebastian, Santana stepped in. "He is just messing with you, H," she said, sending a look to Sebastian, who only chuckled.

Burt gave Sebastian a stern look, causing Smyth to instantly shrink in seriousness.

The doctor came back at the right time, because even though Kurt was crippled with a head injury and a broken leg, he wouldn't let that stop him from clawing Sebastian's eyes out.

"Ok, Kurt. It looks like you have slight damage to the temporal lobe causing you to have a somewhat severe case of Post-Traumatic Amnesia or PTA called Retrograde Amnesia," he informed

"Retrograde Amnesia?"

"Yes. Retrograde Amnesia is a type of PTA. It means you've simply lost memories formed shortly before your accident."

Kurt looked at him as if he were crazy. "Shortly?," he exclaimed. "Two years is a far stretch from shortly!" This doctor was working his very last nerves.

"That is why it's a somewhat severe case."

Kurt glared at him. "When will I get my memories back?"

The doctor let out a heavy sigh, obviously having gone through things like this before. "Sometimes it can take as short as two weeks," he said softly. "Sometimes longer."

Kurt frowned. "Sometimes longer?"

"It usually depends on the person, Mr. Hummel. We doctors like to recommend that you spend time doing familiar things. Things you did before the accident. Even the smallest things can trigger memories." Doctor Aaron finished with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Sebastian and I are here for you, Kurt. We'll help you," Santana said, grabbing a hold of his hand.

Sebastian nodded, moving closer as well.

Burt looked his son in the eyes. "And I'm here as long as you need me to be."

"I'll give you guys a minute," Aaron said, leaving the room again.

Kurt laid silent, confused in his thoughts. This was all so overwhelming and more than just hard to just take in. Two years is a long time and Kurt worries that things might have happened that could really mean something now. If he stooped to levels of befriending Sebastian Smythe, who knows what other things could have happened?

"It isn't fair," he whispered quietly.

Sebastian, Santana, and Burt all stared down at him cautiously. They weren't sure what to say and they didn't want to scare him more.

Kurt slowly closed his eyes and cowered further in his bed. "Can you guys leave for a while," he asked, his voice barely audible.

Santana and Sebastian gave him one last sympathetic look before exiting.

Burt stayed back and grasped Kurt's shoulder again. "I'm here when you need to talk, Bud." Burt leaned down and kissed Kurt's forehead before slowly moving towards the door, closing it behind him.

Kurt sat alone. What's weird is that it felt all too familiar. It's like his mind was so use to being alone that the pain one would feel when lonely, is permanently attached to the man. It scared Kurt and he wonders if this is how he's felt for the past two years.

Kurt closes his eyes again, longing and wishing on everything that he would wake-up back on Burt and Carol's couch.

He didn't.

.

* * *

 **(For exposition purposes and to help you guys out, I had the doctor ask Kurt about the last thing he remembered. I'm not sure if that's how it works in a real amnesiac situation, but I did read a lot about them.)**

 **Thank you guys so much for reading. Leave a review and tell me your thoughts.**

 **Next chapter: Finally some Blaine! :D**


	4. Chapter 4: Going Home

**I feel like this chapter is sort of a catch up chapter, just to fill you in on how Kurt is and Blaine's new life.**

 **It took some time but it's here.**

 **I hope you guys enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable...**

 **Disclaimer No.2: I do not have a Beta so please excuse small errors if found ( hopefully not). ^.^**

* * *

 **KURT**

.

When Kurt was released to go home after being in the hospital for almost three weeks, Burt, Santana, and Sebastian all stood by his side.

He'd gotten over the initial shock of being friends with Sebastian, and settled on just being able to tolerate Meerkat Man. He did however slip up every so often and snap. Sebastian would be understanding and brush it off, obviously taking Kurt's state into consideration.

.

 _"How did we even get to be friends?" Kurt asked one day. He lay in the hospital asking the age-old question that effectively blew his mind every time he thought about it._

 _Sebastian sat at the foot of his bed, reading a magazine while Santana and Burt went and got food. "Well, I got you drunk and then hopped into bed with you. I thought we went over this, K." He said as if it were obvious._

 _Kurt sat up slightly, looking Sebastian dead in the eyes. "Sebastian, I may be in a cast with a cracked skull, but that will not stop me from kicking you directly in the face." Kurt raised his eyebrows, daring Smyth to test him._

 _Sebastian chuckled before setting his magazine aside. "Let's just say we met due to mutual work interests."_

 _Kurt rolled his eyes. "What?"_

 _"I'll let you find out exactly on your own. But I will tell say..." he paused, searching for the right words. "You definitely avenged me for what you think I did with Blaine. Ending with a few laughs and what-do-you-know-it, a very questionable friendship." His face went from bitter to grateful. "I'll grow on you," he added with a wink._

 _Kurt eyed him for a second before deciding to leave it, having conversed with Sebastian long enough._

 _._

It's all a very traumatic experience, which Kurt had to learn the hard way. When he snapped at Santana due to the not-remembering-anything and refusing-to-handle-his-emotions ratio causing him to say things he obviously hadn't meant, ultimately leading to Santana practically biting his fingers off, didn't sit all too well for Kurt.

So instead of attacking his friends, he decided to ask about them. It didn't help. Apparently his 'friends' weren't even his friends.

He hadn't asked very many questions. He asked what he needed to know. Only because he was afraid of what his life might have turned to over the past two years.

Rachel was currently starring in a Broadway show. According to Santana she was still as obnoxious as ever; maybe even worse. She was dating Jesse St. James, whom Kurt still wrenched at the name. After she moved out of Kurt's apartment, she graduated from NYADA, got a lot of No's in the Broadway industry before scoring a chorus gig in Chicago. Chicago opened a lot of doors for her which led her to get the role of Sophie in the rival of Mamma Mia. It broke Kurt's heart that he missed such pivotal moments in her life. Nobody kept in touch.

Tina was a Los Angeles doctor. Santana knew nothing else; she never really liked Tina.

Sam was back in Ohio, teaching Mr. Schue's glee club. Santana didn't care.

Mercedes was a famous manager for well known singers, tired of the quote-unquote God-awful music industry. She was tired of being an objectified soul singer, so she opted to manage said objectified singers.

Which led to Blaine Anderson, whom was a Grammy-Award winning heartthrob. He was signed to a major recording company at the tender age of 21, where he wrote a song called This Time, which won audiences hearts over in just 4 short months. 'Made him 15 times sexier,' Sebastian had informed him, earning a glare from Kurt. Later that year, Blaine won the Grammy for Best Song of the Year. Kurt didn't ask much more on Blaine. At the time; lying in the hospital bed, he didn't want to hear how they lost contact. He didn't want to know that when Blaine walked out their door, he literally never came back. But the proud feelings in his soul he felt for the man did put a smile on his face no matter how sad it made him.

Which is why Kurt asked Sebastian over. He initially wanted Santana but she had other commitments at the bar she worked at. He hadn't asked Burt because of the embarrassment he knew he would feel if he asked his father about his ex-boyfriend whom he hasn't spoken to in apparently two years.

Ultimately leaving Sebastian Smythe, who was now sitting on his couch; beer in hand, in Kurt's condo. _Since when is beer in my house?_

Kurt has been home for two days now and has yet got comfortable, no matter how perfect the home was.

When Kurt first left the hospital and walked into his state-of-the-art condo, he almost had a heart-attack. The place was absolutely gorgeous. It was on the upper side of Manhattan and had a beautiful view of the city. It was spacious and comfortable. Enough to be for one person, however Kurt knew anyone who considered this place, had a partner in mind. The walls were white and lined with black carpet, the furniture was nowhere near as hard as he was use to, and the kitchen; _oh goodness, the kitchen_. Kurt could have had an orgasm right then and there. The place was absolutely ravishing and Kurt understood completely why he bought it.

"You know you can ask," Sebastian said from Kurt's couch, far too comfortable for his liking. "It'd probably help."

Kurt stood in the kitchen on his broken leg and a crutch. He had gotten a lot of heat from everyone. 'You have to sit and rest the leg, Kurt.', 'You can't walk around on it all the time.' No matter how logical it sounded to Kurt, he didn't want to have to depend on anyone or anything. However, after two days, Kurt grew annoyed with them and compromised (and secretly, the pain was getting to him). Now he walks around and stands with one crutch.

Kurt looked up from his boiling pot of chicken soup in the kitchen, to focus on Sebastian. "What?"

Sebastian smirked knowingly at the slender man. "Come on, K. I know you. All the questions you have about Blanderson, go on and ask them. You'll just keep torturing yourself if you don't." Sebastian took a sip of his beer as he eyed Kurt.

Kurt frowned before turning away from him nervously. "I'm not- I don't know-," he couldn't say the right words. He turned back around, looking at Sebastian hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sebastian smiled sadly at him, which made Kurt slightly uncomfortable. He stood and moved closer to Kurt, sitting in one of the stools opposite the bar. "It's ok, Kurt."

Kurt looked deep in his eyes, refusing to cave.

Sebastian stared right back, obviously use to Stubborn Kurt.

Kurt shook his head. He looked back down at his soup, stirring for distraction.

"Go on, ask away. I'll answer as best I can," Sebastian said, taking another swig of his beer.

Kurt wobbled a little, actively avoiding Sebastian's gaze. "Even if I did want to-" He did. "I wouldn't even know what to ask." No matter swell an actor Kurt was in the face, his voice couldn't hide a thing. He voice was sad; extremely sad.

Sebastian tilted his head. "You don't want to know how he is? If he's happy?" He let out a laugh. "How he got to be voted Sexiest Man in America?"

Kurt faltered. "Sexiest?"

Sebastian nodded.

Kurt shook his head again. "I'm fine, Sebastian," he said with a sigh.

"No you aren't. You're sad and confused. It's only right that you would have questions, K."

Before Kurt could disagree, Sebastian stood and disappeared into Kurt's room.

Kurt sighed again as he turned off his soup, abandoning it to limp over to the couch. He was tired. As in 'Sex in the City: Carrie Bradshaw, post wedding disaster' tired. He wasn't even lethargic, yet he felt he could sleep for years; ironically.

When Sebastian came back, he held a silver hand knitted box that could only be Kurt's. Kurt eyed him before scooting over slightly to let Sebastian sit.

"If you weren't missing two years in the brain, you would probably hate me-" Kurt let out a snort, in which Sebastian ignored. "if you saw me pulling this out."

Kurt dropped his head back on the couch, eyes closed. "Noted."

"You pretend like you don't keep tabs on Blaine, but we all know you torture yourself, and you have been for two years."

Kurt's eyes opened again as he eyed Sebastian and then the box.

In the box were magazines, tickets, photo's, cd's, etc. Kurt secretly thanked his two-years-older self for keeping informed.

Sebastian set the box down between them, giving Kurt time to process.

Kurt slowly began to shuffle things in the box, eyeing them nervously.

First he pulled out a magazine. Blaine stood in the center; full-body. He was shirtless and outstandingly gorgeous. He didn't have well-defined abs, but they were there and it suited him so well. He had on a beige set of jeans that accented his V-line very effectively. Kurt smiled at the hems of his pants being folded neatly to high water levels. He obviously didn't have socks on with his maroon Sperry's, which made Kurt's heart spin and his eyes water. His hair was curly and fell exquisitely just above his left eyebrow. He looked like the boy from high school except older; a handsome older version.

Kurt couldn't even get through the first item without tears pooling.

He was immensely proud of Blaine; it physically hurt. But some part of him felt like he didn't deserve the right to be proud. Kurt wasn't there. He hadn't witnessed Blaine's rise to fame. Hell, he had listened to _none_ of his music. Hearing Blaine's voice would make him weep and keel over, he was sure of it. Kurt severed this man's heart, abandoning it in shreds and on top of that, they haven't spoken in years. Kurt felt as if all he could do was watch; wittiness all this greatness. As if Blaine success was in spite of Kurt, and Kurt had been holding him back.

He knew it was a selfish thought, but feelings couldn't be helped.

Kurt set the periodical aside, breathing in deep.

He then found a ticket for a concert that read: Blaine Anderson Concert Debut: Jan. 21st, 2014.

"Those tickets were so hard to come by," Sebastian said. "I don't even think you went."

Kurt hadn't gone. The ticket wasn't hole-punched or anything. It didn't even look like it had been touched.

"I'm confused. These say 2014. That was suppose to be our senior year in college. Was Blaine doing shows, concerts, and going to school?" Kurt was amazed at how quickly Blaine seemed to get to all these places.

"After your guys' break-up, he started to slack off at school and at work. One day he showed up to rehearsals and said he had dropped out of that Nyodo school," Sebastian informed, screwing up the name royally.

"He dropped out of college?" Kurt's eyes were wide.

"Why are you so surprised? You dropped out." Sebastian said roughly.

Kurt could have stabbed him in the chest with his crutch right then and there. Kurt didn't want to talk about Kurt. "Blaine," he said shortly, through gritted teeth.

"He said something about being depressed and falling behind," he said nonchalantly, as if dropping out of school was a regular occurrence. "Then he started flaking on rehearsals and interviews. He was the lead so he could get away with that. It was when he missed some shows, that they had to fire him." Sebastian had obvious resentment towards Blaine, considering the scowl on his face. "Show got canceled and we were all out of the job," he finished with a sigh and a roll to the eyes.

Kurt would have felt sorry for him, but then again, Kurt Hummel probably would never see the day he felt any kind of sympathy for Smyth; at least not in this state-of-mind.

Sebastian continued. "After that, I never spoke to him again. I assumed he went home." he laughs. "Figures the guy: after being blackballed in the Broadway world, he had to go and take the rock star world by storm. I don't know where he is exactly; it's like trying to track down Oprah, but go to a news stand or something; I'm sure you'll see his face there."

Kurt shook his head as he set the ticket down.

Next he found a playbill for Blaine's opening night on Broadway.

It was silent for moment, both men recognizing why.

Sebastian then sucked in a small breath. "I don't know if he told you," he began. "But, we didn't sleep together that night. I mean, if I remember correctly, he didn't even come over my place." Sebastian informed slowly. "He was too mopey over you."

Sebastian was evidently waiting for Kurt to speak, or maybe even yell.

Kurt didn't look up from the booklet. He saw a tear fall down on top of the cover as he whispered, "can you leave?"

Kurt felt Sebastian rest his hand on his shoulder, before kissing him on his head.

Kurt would later demand that he NEVER do that again.

Sebastian left as Kurt sat alone again on his sofa, looking at a Broadway playbill.

This was his life.

This wonderful, wonderful condo, and no one to share it with.

A box full of Blaine momentums that almost made him feel pathetic.

No college degree.

And no idea how to get his memories back.

Did he even have a job?

Of course he had a job. How the hell would he be able to afford a place like this?

He decided against looking further into the Blaine Box. It probably would do him no good and make him feel worse.

So he grabbed the magazine, the ticket, and the playbill and set them back into the box. He then tried standing but his leg had other ideas. He withered back on the couch, scooting the box -with a pathetic amount of energy- to the opposite side of the couch.

He reached over to grab the pills that had been resting on the table beside the sofa. He dry-swallowed two before laying awkward on the couch, trying miserably to get comfortable.

Eventually he fell asleep, with the pain pills leaving him slightly numb.

...

Kurt was in a very funky situation. He was surrounded by dirt, which he assumed was a snake hole. Why? He had no clue. It made no sense because there was a large and very hairy hand inside as well. There was no logical way that a gigantic hand and himself could fit into a snake hole, but he figures his mind couldn't register that. Not only was there a giant, furry hand, but it was active slapping Kurt hard in the face, causing him to fly and bang against the walls. What scared him most was that he was laughing; he was laughing hard, as if being banged into the wall was the greatest and most entertaining act in the world.

"KURT!"

The hand was speaking now causing Kurt to laugh even harder.

"Kurt! Come on now, wake-up!"

Kurt woke suddenly, eyes agape.

Santana sat in his living room, in the chair next to him. She had been slapping his face to get him to resurface.

Kurt mumbled, causing Santana to slap his face repeatedly, all over again.

Kurt sat up as best he could, smacking Santana's hand away. "I'm awake! Damn, Santana!"

"Good," she said as she pushed the bowl sitting on the table in front of them closer to Kurt. "Now eat."

Kurt sat upright leaning over to smell the bowl of food. He took the spoon and began to sip at the tomato soup. "What are you doing here? And- and how did you get in," he asked through bites.

Satana sat her purse and autumn coat aside as she leaned back, crossing her legs. "Please, I made a key when you first got this place. "

Kurt was pretty sure that if he could remember the last two years, he would not be ok with the fact that Santana Lopez had a key to his home. However, now, he was just really happy not being alone.

They sat in a relatively comfortable silence for a moment.

"Where do I work?," Kurt asked suddenly.

"Vogue," Santana answered casually.

Kurt's fingers hesitated. "Where?," he asked, unsure if he heard correctly.

Santana looked at him nutty. "Vogue, the magazine place." Her face fell in worry. "Oh, K, tell me you're not starting to forget mo-".

Kurt shook his head, waving her concerns away. He then slowed and eye-balled her. "I work at Vogue...," he clarified.

Santana stood and walked to the kitchen, reaching into Kurt's fridge. "Yeah. Vogue."

"I thought I got fired."

Santana sat back down on the sofa-chair with a water bottle. "Yeah."

Kurt gaped at her.

"Apparently some fancy looking guy un-fired you after you came back from Ohio."

Kurt continued to stare at her blankly, tomato soup forgotten. He didn't even take in the fact that the sassy man might very well be Joc Konny. "Vogue?," he asked again, not believing he'd get rehired after flaking and then evaporating.

Santana rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. "Yeah, Kurt."

Kurt's mouth formed into a small 'o'. "How? What- I mean, how? What- what's my position?"

Santana waved her hand, nonchalantly. "I don't know, you never let me come up there. People always call you the Chief man or something."

Kurt would have been upset about missing the perfect spit-take moment if he hadn't just found out that he was Editor-and-Cheif of Vogue magazine. "WHAT! EDITOR-AND-CHIEF! ARE YOU SERIOUS?" His hands were shaking slightly and his body had a very real urge to jump up and down.

Santana laughed at his giddiness.

Kurt came to a halt. "Wait, you're not lying are you? Playing with my emotions after what happened with Mercedes?" He wouldn't blame her.

Santana eyes frowned in confusion. "Mercedes- Mercedes Jones? What happened with Mercedes?

Right. Two year memory gap. "Nevermind," he said sadly, disappointed at the fact he just forgot he had a bad case of amnesia. Irony.

"But no, Puffy. I'm not lying." Santana smiled again.

Kurt smiled, heart warming.

It felt really nice. Finally something made sense, making Kurt feel at least a smidgen better.

For the first time in a while, Kurt was actually excited to go to work. At least his two years-young brain felt so.

* * *

 **BLAINE**

"So tell me about this new album of yours, Blaine," Ellen Degeneres said.

Blaine Anderson's eyes lit with a passion like no other. "It's called Anarchy." His voice was warm, as he adored speaking on his new album. "I've been working on it for a long while and I am really excited to finally get to share it with everyone," he spoke, radiant and effortlessly. "To everyone that'll listen anyway," he stage-whispered jokingly.

Blaine sat comfortably in the studio of the one and only, Ellen Degeneres, in Burbank, California. He had his loafers and high waters among him with his legs-crossed and arms folded, neatly and suave. He was the picture of perfection.

The interview was going excellently and he couldn't have been prouder of himself.

When his manager; Mercedes Jones, told him that he was to appear on Ellen, he went bonkers.

.

 _"Come in," he said to Mercedes as she walked into his semi secluded yet gratefully private glass house._

 _"Next time you want to get a cat that you are VERY MUCH allergic to, don't call me, John," Mercedes said into her earpiece after she kissed Blaine hello on the cheek._

 _Blaine never knew who she was talking to. When names like Katy, or John came up, he liked to assume she was talking to Katy Perry, or John Taylor._

 _Sadly even if it were said stars, Blaine never got to speak with them. He learned that from experience. His fanboying ways eventually did bite him in the ass._

 _Mercedes hung up the phone as she walked into Blaine's spacious living room._

 _If outsiders saw Blaine's house, they would definitely pin him as a Hippie._

 _"Are you sitting down?" Mercedes began, smiling widely._

 _Blaine's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. It was a very stupid question as she was standing directly in front of the man. Blaine lips poked out as he decided that he would not reply to the question._

 _Mercedes slumped slightly as she rolled her eyes. "Just answer the question, Blaine," she said, sighing._

 _Blaine gaped at her as if she were loony. "...No," he said slowly. " I am not sitting down."_

 _Mercedes laughed and continued.. "Well sit down, baby boy, because I have got some fun news for you." Her eyebrows were wiggling uncontrollably._

 _Blaine chuckled at his friend as he did as he was told._

 _"Guess who just got a call from The Ellen Degeneres; personally asking for Blaine Anderson to appear on her show?" Her voice was high and filled with excitement._

 _Blaine stood with a head rush. "NO," he exclaimed, body slowly filling with overwhelmed feelings of excitement. "NO!"_

 _Mercedes nodded her head quickly, confirming Blaine's hopes._

 _Blaine ran to her and hugged her tight, jumping up and down giddily. "I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS. OH MY GOODNESS." He pulled away from her and smiled. "THANK YOU SO MUCH, Mercedes."_

 _With all the excitement and the head rushes, Blaine grabbed Mercedes' face and kissed her smack dab on the lips._

 _It was really weird. He didn't know what he was doing but it just sort of happened._

 _He stepped away from her slowly, realizing what he had just done. "I'm sorry..."_

 _Mercedes looked so odd, Blaine couldn't read the look on her face. This moment just went from hysterically excited to awkwardly frightening in a matter of seconds._

 _Mercedes tilted her head and hummed. "Not bad, Anderson,"she said after a long moment. "I'd be fine if I were your boy toy," she wiggled her eyebrows again, teasing him._

 _Blaine blushed hard, shaking his head. "Will NEVER happen again."_

 _Mercedes laughed for a second and then instantly turned serious. "Now this interview..."_

.

"So Blaine, one last question before you go," Ellen Degeneres asked as Blaine shifted in the velvet chair, smiling widely.

Blaine smiled and nodded, somber at the fact that he would have to leave soon.

"Any special man you're keeping secret in your life?"

Blaine chuckled. "The whole point of having a secret boyfriend is to keep him secret," he said, laughing. "And even if I did, I wouldn't say." He poked his tongue at her and then winked at the camera.

Blaine was single. He may have tried to keep his private life private but the whole point is to actually have a life to keep private. Which Blaine could hardly say he had.

On days when he wasn't touring, performing small gigs to sold out arenas, or doing something for charity, he would be home either: writing music, singing music, or dreaming music. On occasion there would be a bucket of ice cream and a Veronica Mars marathon.

Blaine Anderson was very much single, but he also was completely fine with it; for now at least.

"Well, Blaine, thank you for coming. It was an honor having you on the show," Ellen said, reaching to touch the arm of his chair.

The audience clapped and screamed for him.

Blaine blushed. He never thought in a million years that Ellen Degeneres would be thanking him for anything! "Thank you for having me. It is an insane dream come true, really," he said, nodding.

Ellen then turned to the audience and spoke. "And for everyone in the audience, you will be getting a Blaine Anderson: Anarchy CD free, premiering two weeks."

Blaine smiled at the audience, bidding them goodbye.

The show then cut to commercial and Ellen thanked him. He then exited the stage saying goodbye to the audience again.

The second he was behind the magic Ellen curtains he was pulled by Mercedes.

"Come on. We've got places to be."

As he exited the studio he was swarmed by fans. _Parking in the back obviously hadn't crossed his body guard's mind._

"BLAINE, OVER HERE!"

"I LOVE YOU."

"LET ME HAVE YOUR BABIES, BLAINE. PLEASE!"

Blaine walked down a narrow sidewalk; hard bars defining the space. Stood behind the bars were females standing next to females with the exception of a 1:4 boy/girl ratio. Also spotted in the female-filled space were photographers and paparazzi all capturing photos.

Blaine would stop as much he could to take pictures and sign autographs but when he'd take to long, Mercedes would chew him out.

He felt his arm being tugged on aggressively. He smiled at the poor girl as his body guard, Rob, safely disconnected the two. He then guided Blaine to the car, opening the door. Blaine turned and smiled to the people. "Thank you guys so much. I really wish I could just give each and every one of you a hug," he said, honestly.

If one thing was for certain, it's that Blaine Anderson loved his fans. They helped make his dreams come true. This weird kid from Westerville, Ohio who sang Katy Perry hits and jumped on furniture; that's who they decided on loving and Blaine couldn't be more grateful. He wouldn't be where he is today without them and he would thank them until he couldn't thank them anymore.

"I will see you guys next time." He blew kisses, saying goodbye one last time before climbing in the car.

Mercedes sat opposite him in the back seat as they began driving.

"That was amazing," Blaine gushed, still in shock from the Ellen interview.

"You did great! They loved you and you came off as genuine and sweet. You've got the girls and guys falling."

Blaine shook his head.

It had been about a year and a half of this celebrity life and he has yet gotten use to it. Part of him is grateful, because he could still have these amazing experiences without having a big head.

Blaine leaned back and immediately noticed how tired he was. He hasn't slept in almost 21 hours.

Mercedes decided that she apparently wanted Blaine to be a tv-star as well so she got him a miniature part on the hit show How to Get Away With Murder.

Even though his part was small, they filmed for hours, leaving Blaine few to actually sleep seeing as the next day he had the interview with Ellen.

But he didn't want to complain. So many things were happening for him; things so many people dreamed of.

"Where are we going?" he asked after a long moment.

Mercedes continued typing on her ever-busy blackberry. "You are going to the hospital," she said, not glancing up.

Blaine turned to look at her. "What?"

Mercedes looked up from her phone, eyeing him seriously. "You have the Musicians on Call gig. You better not have forgotten!" she warned him, pointing a finger.

Blaine didn't forget. It was just that, he was just now remembering.

Musicians on Call was one of Blaine's beloved charities and he was beyond thankful that they asked him to perform. But if Blaine didn't get rest soon, he was sure he was going to keel over.

"No I didn't forget..." he said quietly.

Mercedes went back to tapping on her phone. Blaine then leaned over and spoke again. "Does it say 'break' anywhere on your phone calendar, because Blaine sure could use a nap?," he asked, speaking in third person for emphasis.

Mercedes looked up again, almost annoyed. She stared at him, as if to say _'you're joking, right?'_

Blaine laughed nervously and leaned back to his side. "I'm just kidding," he said, smiling through his lying teeth.

Mercedes went back down to her phone, causing Blaine to sigh out of irritation.

"But I'm not," he countered.

Mercedes sighed and set her phone down, looking him in the eyes. "Blaine, you know-"

She couldn't get any words out. "Just one day. What about tomorrow? I don't have anything to do tomorrow right?"

Mercedes shook her head. "No. Tomorrow you have to sing for the Trevor Live event and then you have to get on a plane to New York."

Blaine gaped. "New York? Why New York?"

Mercedes paused for a moment, actively searching for the right words. "You have an interview for Vogue the next morning, remember. And you're going to be on the cover; you cannot reschedule!"

Blaine sighed heavily. He looked at Mercedes seriously. "M, I need a nap," he pronounced every word, hoping to get the seriousness across to Mercedes.

She picked her phone back up and began typing excessively again. "You can nap when you're dead."

Blaine rolled his eyes again before leaning back in his seat. He closed his eyes, hoping he could get some minutes in now.

Blaine Anderson never would have thought he'd get to perform at a Trevor live event, or be on the cover of Vogue. However, at this very moment, all he could think about was the ten hour nap he was going to take after the interview.

.

* * *

 **I know this chapter held very little. I just needed to establish another base, you know? hah!**

 **Did you like Blaine? Did he come off as honest? Leave a review and tell me what you think.**

 **Thank you guys for reading and I hope you stay with it.**

 **Next chapter we will really get into some juicy stuff. Ha I am really excited. ^.^ And I know you guys will love it.**

 **Next Chapter: Kurt goes back to work and Blaine is in New York. Will there be a meeting? *whispers* maybe... ^.^**


	5. Hiatus

**I am terribly sorry, you guys. Classes just started and things have just been crazy busy for me.**

 **This is a little late but this is sort of a Hiatus for the story. This will most likely be the only one.**

 **I will be back and fully loaded the 25th of October.**

 **I already have some things written, which I like to think are completely BadAss. (: I also have some pretty radical ideas. A lot is going to go down for Kurt and Blaine.**

 **I hope you guys are still interested.**

 **Again I am incredibly sorry for the late information, but I promise you will LOVE what comes next. :D**

 **I will see you guys VERY soon.**

 _~A Thousand Sweet Kisses~_


	6. Chapter 5: The Vogue Debacle part 2

****This is an updated version from the 25th* I advise you give it a read. Or reread. Or you know just skip over it, hah. Your choice. (: ***

 **Ok. We're back. (:**

 **This chapter, I feel, is kind of crazy. Hah.**

 **I honestly hope you guys enjoy, because writing this was fun and hard all at once.**

 **It get's a little racy closer to the end. This Joc character is a real horndog. He writes himself.**

 **Anyway, I hope you like. 8D**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable...**

 **Disclaimer No.2: I do not have a Beta so please excuse small errors if found ( hopefully not). ^.^**

* * *

 **MONDAY**

 **Kurt**

 _"Ticket Please!"_

 _Kurt stood at an unfamiliar entrance with a ticket in hand._

 _He wore a lengthy coat that fit elegantly yet protected him from the alarming nature of the human mouth._

 _He knew there were people all around, even though he couldn't see any of them. All that was in view was an arena with two double glass doors hindering the entrance._

 _He felt something deep in his soul: strong aches of longing and fear._

 _He wanted nothing more than to cross through those doors. The problem was that his legs apparently didn't want to._

 _A voice spoke again."Ticket, Sir."_

 _Blaine was in there._

 _Kurt wasn't aware how he knew this but something in him knew for certain that if he could just move his body, he would find Blaine on the other side of those doors._

 _His head falls as he glares at his feet and then the ticket in his hand._

 _Blaine Anderson Concert Debut: Jan. 21st, 2014._

 _Anger was currently controlling his body, and he didn't know why._

 _"SIR! Ticket please!," the ferocious voice spoke for the third time._

 _Kurt turned slowly toward the voice. Looking at the giant man with his heavy heart._

 _The man only looked at him, hand out and waiting._

 _It was as if Kurt were moving in slow motion. He looked down at the ticket in his hand, shaking his head. He looked back up at the man again, nothing in his eyes._

 _Then he turned._

 _He turned away from the man and the double glass doors, and he turned away from Blaine._

 _He slid the ticket back in his coat pocket, closed his arms around himself, and walked away from the arena without a glance back._

 _._

Kurt woke slowly.

He sat upright in his egyptian cotton covered bed. He glanced at the clock sitting on the table aside as it red 9:48 am.

He slept through the night.

Sadly, he wished more than anything he hadn't.

When Kurt was in the hospital, the doctor informed him that memories might come back in ways such as: dreams, flashbacks, or flat remembrance.

So Kurt was very aware of the fact that he had just remembered something.

Kurt guessed that was the concert Sebastian told him he hadn't went to.

It was very vague; as if he were watching someone else's story from a blocked cell. The physical ache that consumed him was horrible. It was as though the blocked cell was closed but not locked. Something in his mind had their claws in his shoulders holding him back, refusing to let him see more. The idea that this was how he was going to get his memories back, scratched at his soul with determination and dedication.

To synonymize: it was torture.

The scene may have been relatively ambiguous to be complete recollection but the irrefutable evidence of emotions he had gotten as well, were not.

His heart lay heavy. Not only with the feelings of the almost-memory, but from the feelings of now. Right now; today. He'd love more than anything to speak to Blaine; to even look at the man. The worst feeling of all, was not being able to.

Kurt would definitely go back and smack himself in the face; tell himself to turn and go into that concert to see his imminent partner.

However, Kurt couldn't shake the feelings of emptiness. He had left that arena for a reason, and even though he would love to go back and turn around, the side of his brain that remembered felt as if he _couldn't_ go back and turn around. And although, Kurt couldn't remember why, he just felt that Blaine wouldn't want him; not the way he was.

It worries Kurt.

The emptiness he felt in the dream didn't feel like an emptiness for Blaine. It felt as if he lived life in this void; that the emptiness consumed him ages ago and he had gotten use to it.

Things keep coming at Kurt: memories, emotions, and unexpected people.

His life seemed to have changed drastically these last two years and he was starting to fear getting his memories back.

"I need to go to work!"

He exclaimed out loud. Staying home, torturing himself with his thoughts was not something he was going to do anymore.

So Kurt picked up his phone and decided on making a phone call.

He scrolled through his phone, finding a lot of numbers without a name. He continued to scroll until he found something relatively close to what he was looking for.

"Vogue Magazine?" a female voice spoke.

"Hello, I'm trying to get a hold of-," Kurt just realized he had no clue as to who he was trying to get ahold of. "...Who's ever in charge?" he asked, uncertain.

"Sir, I need to know who's calling. We don't just transfer anyone," she said, sneer evident in her voice.

Kurt frowned. "This is Kurt Hummel."

"Oh," she gasped. "Oh, Mr. Hummel Sir, I am terribly sorry. I'll transfer you over to Joc," she exclaimed frantically.

 _Joc Konny?_ "Wait. Joc?" he asked quickly. "Is Isabelle there?"

"Isabelle...?" Her voice trailed off.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to catch on.

"Oh!" Kurt guessed she understood now. "Isabelle Wright!"

Kurt shook his head at the phone and her doltish moment. Working at Vogue and not knowing who Isabelle Wright is, was definitely an act of terror. "Yes, Isabelle Wright. Can I speak to her please?"

"Um..." the voice on the phone spoke. "Isabelle Wright doesn't work here anymore, Sir," she said as if it were obvious. "But I will transfer you over to Joc right now."

Before Kurt could say anything else, he was put on hold.

He hadn't thought about Isabelle. Granted he did have her job, but he couldn't possibly imagine that she got fired. She must have quit or went to Vogue Paris. No one get's rid of Isabelle Wright and continues to have success; it wasn't logical.

"Konny speaking," the line answered.

"Hello, this is Kurt," he replied. "Joc?" Kurt asked, still uncertain of Joc Konny casually visiting Vogue.

"Kurt Hummel! God, have I missed you," he said, instantly surprising Kurt. "Finally all healed up so you can come back and we could get back to how things were. You're job is not an easy one, no matter how good you look doing it."

Something in his voice, made Kurt's teeth clench. "Um, yes. Actually I was wondering if I could come back into work. I've been out for awhile and I miss it. " He decided against telling Joc about the amnesia. As far as Kurt was concerned, Joc was a petty man, and unless he's gone through a miracle: two years was not enough to get rid of an acrimonious attitude as bad as his.

Joc's throat made a sound through the phone. "I'm sure that's not all you miss."

Kurt let out a humorless chuckle, deciding against saying anything derogatory. "Yes, well I will see you...Wednesday," he settled.

Joc hmm'd into the phone. "See you Wednesday, babe."

Kurt hung up the phone quickly as his mouth formed into a disgusted frown. Joc obviously had not changed. He was still an asshole with secrets people cared nothing about.

Joc's loathsome personality aside, Kurt was very excited.

It was as if he was starting his first day, and even though being Editor-and-Chief of Vogue Magazine was extremely stressful; ten times stressful with someone who got into a car accident, losing all memories of how to do the job, Kurt was still going to enjoy it as much as possible.

He was sure; Wednesday was going to be a good day.

.

.

 **Blaine**

Blaine always loved coming to New York. The City really did sooth his soul. Whether it be a bar filled with aspiring performers, or a Broadway show; he loved it.

He hadn't been to New York in awhile, with all the performing he had to do. As crazy as it sounded, he didn't have very many shows in New York. Everything he did in New York was either for pleasure or had something to do with the clothes on his back.

However, the feelings he had for arriving back in the City were not always feelings of love.

Blaine remembers his first visit back to New York as if it were yesterday.

He remembers the emotional drainage just as much as his idiosyncratic tendencies to over exaggerate, in turn, freaking himself out even further.

He hadn't been in almost four months, out of fear that he'd see his old coworkers from Normal Heart, or he'd run into Carmen Tibideaux; which was more than unlikely, or even worse: he'd run into Kurt, which was very likely seeing as the universe sometimes wanted to _kill_ him.

Running into Kurt at that time sounded as bad as running into the Kracken in the middle of the ocean; terrifying.

He had cut Kurt out, not wanting anything to do with him. His initial reasoning was his anger. Anger with himself for letting their relationship get to such levels, with Kurt for cheating, and with the universe for screwing up his jubilation and future. But it soon grew to despair. Feeling the despair of dropping out of one of the greatest theatre schools in America, losing his first role on Broadway for lousy reasoning causing him to probably never get cast in a New York Theater again, and then there's the pain of losing Kurt. Feeling how he felt, he couldn't very well stay in the city with the man. He'd break and probably go back, which could only end in more heartbreak. They needed to grow up, and obviously trying to do that together wasn't going to solve it.

All he thought about that night was Kurt, whether he wanted to or not. Their break-up still felt new and he missed the man. Kurt wasn't just his soul mate. He was also his best friend.

Dropping Kurt Hummel cold turkey was easy for absolutely no one.

That night he hadn't sleep very well.

Coming to New York today, after a year in a half however, wasn't nearly as hard.

Of course, he missed Kurt. Sometimes a lot, and sometimes rarely at all. But when it get to deep for him; when he'd get too entranced in his past and what could-have-been, he shocks himself out of it and moves on.

Dwelling wasn't good for Blaine, so he didn't. He chose to take his pain and hurt and put it into his music.

He, of course missed his privacy as well. One could not speak enough on how much he missed his privacy. That was probably one of the hardest things for him to get use to.

Granted, it was hard in a reminiscent sort of way and he definitely missed when his life was relatively simple. But the stress of having a photo-shoot, having to sing a few extra songs, or having interview after interview, was not something he'd lament over.

Nonetheless, right now; in the wee hours of the New York City night, Blaine Anderson was going to sleep. No more reminiscing for him, he needed to rest. He had his very first interview with Vogue magazine tomorrow.

He lay back on a bed in The Greenwich Hotel with a small smile on his face.

Even though the universe and himself had a rough past, he couldn't be more thankful.

.

 **TUESDAY**

 **Kurt**

 _Why?_ Why had he decided on Wednesday? Why couldn't he have just said Tuesday?

Now he has to sit at home, thinking and groaning for a whole 'nother day.

Sometimes Kurt was his own worst enemy.

.

.

 **Blaine**

Blaine sat in the Black Bentley, mentally preparing himself for his Vogue interview. Blaine sometimes felt as if he spent more time in this car than his own house.

"So who is this interview with," he asked Mercedes, not sure.

Blaine actually remembers a few things about Vogue, with Kurt having been there for quite sometime.

He highly doubts Kurt would still be working there. He vaguely remembers the whole Mercedes situation, and the awful fight they had about it. Mercedes and Kurt haven't been the same since. Blaine also remembers Kurt complaining about some Jake guy being very inappropriate with him.

Knowing the old Kurt, Blaine would have guessed he dumped that place, and was now off to higher places.

Then again, he didn't really know Kurt anymore.

They hadn't spoken in a very long time.

Thinking about it, Blaine may have missed Kurt, Rachel, and even Santana, but those people were his old life. He wasn't sure where they would fit in, in this new life, no matter how much he on occasion wanted them to.

Blaine had this whole other life, in which he didn't have time to bring new people in; let alone old flames in which may very well bring up old drama.

Mercedes looked up from her seat opposite to Blaine, glancing briefly before turning her attention back to her phone. "The Editor-and-Chief," she said, quickly.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Who, M?" he exasperated. "It's like being on Oprah and not knowing who Oprah is; shameful. I can't go in there being a complete jackass."

Mercedes continued to tap on her phone, visibly becoming nervous. "Well..." she stalled. "You sort of already know," she admitted. "So don't worry," she finished, as if Blaine wasn't going to ask anymore questions.

Blaine chuckled. "What?"

"Uh...Kurt'stheeditorandcheif," she said, quietly and far too quickly to be understood.

Blaine tilted his head. "What?" he asked again.

Mercedes looked at him nervously. "Kurt is the Editor-and-Chief," she said slowly.

Blaine sat for a minute not actually hearing her.

Mercedes frowned.

Blaine sighed, poking his lips out. "What?" he repeated for the third time. "Kurt?" he asked. "As in Kurt Hummel?"

Mercedes nodded.

Blaine's eyes grew comically wide at a very slow pace. "Mercedes!"

The car stopped. "Oh look, we're here," she pointed out. "Now go before you're late," she said shooing him.

Blaine glared at her. "Mercedes!"

Mercedes reached over and opened his door. "GO!," she demanded.

Blaine was pushed out of the car.

Mercedes frowned in fear as the car drove off, leaving a dumbfounded Blaine and a body guard urging him to get to the door.

Blaine stares off at the car before he shakes his head, making his way into the pretentious building.

Blaine hadn't seen Kurt in what? Two years! This was absolutely insane. He was going to kill Mercedes. She could have at least told him; give him a heads up!

However, he knew having given a heads up wouldn't make this reunion any less awkward.

That's probably what he was dreading the most.; the awkwardness he knew was to come.

Blaine knew he was going to run into Kurt again sometime in his life. But he figured it'd be at their ten year reunion when their relationship would only be considered a high school fling, However, two years is phase: Over with slight longing. Two years was not enough for them to have a meeting and not have some type of old feelings come up, not with the love they so apparently had. Blaine had blantely ignored Kurt and made it a point in his life, to hurt him the way Kurt had.

Is that what he had done?

 _No, it couldn't have been._

Anyway, all this to say, he was dreading this.

He didn't know why though. They were both grown men, and granted it had been two years, and they both brutally hurt each other the last time they spoke, but that shouldn't matter. They had matured, and their relationship was in the past.

So Blaine lifted his shoulders back and made his way to the front desk, bodyguard close behind.

Blaine was recognized before he reached the desk.

"Oh, my God." It was a very high voice; could very well break a few glasses, if not definitely some eardrums. "It's Blaine Anderson. Blaine Anderson is walking towards my desk. Oh my God," she squealed, frantically fiddling with her papers.

Blaine smiled modestly. "Hello."

"Blaine Anderson," she whispered, eyes not blinking nor moving away from Blaine's face.

Blaine chuckled. "Uh, I have an interview with the Editor-And-Chief," he informed.

She continued to stare, before realizing she needed to speak. "YES," she yelled.

The bodyguard instinctively scooted closer to Blaine. This girl seemed almost inimical.

"Sorry, yes," she said, instantly regaining some professionalism. "Jesse will escort you to his office." She gestured towards a man sitting behind her.

Blaine nodded, starting to leave before the hostile female spoke again. "But first: can you sign this,?" she asked, desperately handing him a piece of paper.

Blaine chuckled. "Of course. Who should I make-," she cut him off.

"Chelsea! My name is Chelsea," she said, excitedly.

 _ **Thank you for your wonderful service here at Vogue, Chelsea. Definitely put a smile on my face.**_

 _ **~ B. Anderson**_

"There you go, Chelsea." He smiled at her, before following Jesse.

"Blaine Anderson just said my name," he could hear before entering the elevator.

"Sorry about her, she's new," the Jesse character said.

Blaine only nodded, as he watched the numbers on the elevator escalate.

Kurt was the Editor-and-Chief of Vogue magazine. And even though Vogue had done some harm to their relationship all those months ago; leaving Blaine with resentment towards the company in general, Blaine couldn't help but feel proud of the man. However, the part of Blaine that was proud of Kurt for succeeding so greatly in life, was quickly hushed when the bell rang in the elevator, signalling they were on their intended level.

As he walked out of the elevator, he was mentally psyching himself up. _I can do this._ He was sure he could

As they approached the door the door that read: Kurt Hummel, he nervously rubbed his hands on his jeans. _I'm doing this._

Jesse knocked, and slowly opened the door. "Joc, Kurt's Interview is here."

"Come in," a voice, that Blaine did not recognize as Kurt's said.

Blaine eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he and his bodyguard walked into the office. "Thank you," he said to Jesse as he left the room.

"Blaine Anderson! The one and only," said the man, whom Blaine now knew was Joc. He stood, arms extended.

Blaine may have been confused as to why this man was not Kurt, however he was not going to be rude. "Hello," he said with a polite smile as he looked around. The man opposite of him might not have been Kurt, but this office sure was.

It's alarming how easily Blaine noticed.

"Sit down, Sit down!" he exclaimed as they both sat down, opposite of each other.

Blaine wasn't entirely sure what he was to say, so he waited for the man to speak further.

Joc leaned into the desk. "God, you're gorgeous," he said, his voice somewhat low.

Blaine tilted his head, as this man seemed slightly familiar. "Thank you," he excepted.

"Anytime, baby," Joc winked.

Blaine raised an eyebrow as he let it go. "I was told I had an interview with Kurt Hummel," he said slowly, beginning to dislike this man.

"Yeah, he'll be here tomorrow," he said, nonchalantly as he looked as Blaine like a dog on a mission.

Blaine frowned. "Ok..."

"Somebody was suppose to call you, but you know, who cares?" Joc said, leaning back and looking Blaine in the eyes,

Blaine eyes widened slightly. "What?"

"There are plenty of things we can do to waste time until tomorrow, baby."

Blaine knew instantly. This was the vulgar man that Kurt had mentioned one time. It's insane how he remembered, but the rage he felt that night for someone sexually harassing Kurt was enough to last a lifetime. "You," he whispered in understanding.

"Me," Joc said for no absolute reason, wiggling his eyebrows seductively.

Blaine shook his head, standing. "You should really be convicted as a sexual predator." he said, losing his manners for a second.

"Excuse me," Joc said, standing to his level.

Blaine shook his head at himself. "I'm sorry, that was unprofessional."

Joc's neck rolled. "Do you know who I am? People do not speak to Joc Konny like that."

Blaine laughed sadly at the man speaking in third person. "I actually didn't know who you were, Sir," he said, honestly. "Again, I apologize."

"You don't have to be in my magazine, I could kick who ever I want out," he said with a sneer, shoving his so-called power in Blaine's face.

Blaine nodded. "You can kick me out if you want," he began, staunch "However, It would be ego-maniacal, ill-advised, and beyond foolish, especially at a time like this. I am not a cocky bastard, sir, seeing as you all hang out together, and I have not gotten that group invitation. But I do know who I am, and I know that I bring many different people to the table. This magazine is amazing. It's Vogue for goodness sake, you're a marvelous success without me, hell I'm sure you'd be a great success without Nicole Kidman, but you wouldn't be stupid enough to try that. So go on and kick me out, see if mommy and daddy will keep letting you get that paycheck for work you obviously don't know how to do," he finished, voice and mind completely unwavered.

Joc almost growled at the man, seeing as the hatred in his eyes could practically killed on its own.

Blaine nodded again. "I'll will come back tomorrow, when the Editor-and-Chief is here," he smiled. "Thank you."

Blaine walked out of the office irritated as hell. Joc Konny was the explicit definition of aggravating Old Money.

He was going to _kill_ Mercedes.

.

.

 **WEDNESDAY**

 **Kurt**

 **Kurt Hummel**

Kurt stood at the office door that had his name on it.

His heart was racing as he took in the moment. He had been standing there for maybe five minutes now. Everyone around probably thought he was insane, but he could care less.

This was his new life; Editor-and-Chief of Vogue magazine, and he was going to savor every second of it.

Kurt let out a giddy laugh as he couldn't take it anymore. He opened the door slowly, as he walked into his Editor-and-Chief office.

The office was beautiful. He had a view of the city; as if he hadn't already got enough of it. The walls were maroon with books, clothing, and talismans decorating it. There were pictures and pictures of beautiful designs he knew he had created.

A little part of Kurt's heart broke. It was as if all his dreams had come true, yet he hadn't gotten to witness any of it.

However the better part of Kurt set the heartbreak aside, as he breathed in the air of his new office.

"So beautiful," he whispered. His eyes began to water as his lips formed a smile.

It was then the chair to his desk turned around; in evil villain movie fashion, seating the one and only Joc Konny.

His heart dropped as he physically deflated.

"Kurt Hummel," Joc smiled broadly as he stood.

"Oh god," Kurt exhaled. He rolled his eyes, moving towards his desk.

Joc moved opposite Kurt. "My, my have I missed you," Joc laughed. "Your job is not an easy one, no matter how good you look doing it." Joc obviously had been working too hard, and too long for his own liking. He seemed more than ready to hand the job back over to Kurt.

Kurt frowned at the man, deciding to ignore the comment as he sat down in his chair.

"It has been way too long, babe," Joc started again.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders as he began shuffling things on his desk, trying his hardest to ignore Joc's presence entirely.

"I know it's been way too long for you too, baby," Joc said, his voice reaching levels Kurt was sure only dog's could hear as he began moving back around Kurt's desk.

Kurt shook his head. Even after two whole years, Joc was still a pig. "I should get to work," Kurt said, even though he hadn't the slightest clue as to what work he had.

Joc turned Kurt's chair facing him, looking him directly in the eyes.

"Yes. You should get to work," Joc said.

Something in Joc's eyes made Kurt's stomach stir.

And then Joc's hand was on his groin; massaging.

Kurt's body reacted completely different than his brain. It all happened very fast. Kurt hadn't been in his office no longer than 10 minutes and Joc's hand had already found an inappropriate neighborhood.

Kurt immediately tried to swat him away before the sensation took over. It has been a very long time for Kurt, and this felt oddly familiar.

"Oh, goodness, I missed you so much, babe." Joc's breath was hot against his ear now. "Let me take care of you."

Just as Kurt's body was reluctantly warming, his eyes widened as realization took over. Seconds; it took seconds for Kurt to realize the situation. Joc Konny's hands were currently in a place Kurt was very skeptical about him being, but the worst part is that Kurt was extremely turned on; at least his body was.

His mind however, was in a different place altogether.

"Get off of me!" he exclaimed, half dazed, half disgusted. He scooted back in the chair and smacked Joc's hand away. "What gives you the right?" He asked angrily, slowly standing and glaring daggers at the man. "Who the hell do you think you are to touch me like that?"

Joc stood, staring at Kurt's semi behavioral switch. He tilted his head in slight concern. He shook his head slowly, visibly searching for words. His face then slowly morphed into a smile as he began to laugh. "I'm Joc Konny," he said as if this were some type of game.

Kurt continued to glower at the man as he slowly walked forward. When he got face-to-face, he sneered. "Screw you, Joc Konny," he said as he raised his hand and swung at the man's face; slapping him hard.

Kurt was angry.

He had been hoping that after the whole 'fire Tina' situation, Joc would have gotten the hint that Kurt was not interested. It made Kurt even angrier because, Joc doesn't seem to care that he just had his hands on another man's crotch. Even after two years Joc was still the same prick he was before!

Joc's hand flew to his cheek for comfort. "What the hell, Kurt?"

Kurt stepped away, seething. "Don't ever touch me like that again," he said slowly, body shaking from many different nerves.

Joc shook his head in bewilderment. "Kurt, what is wrong with you?"

Before Kurt could get any words out, Joc spoke again, finding his own answers to the question. "Wait, is this one of the games, that you refuse to play with me?"

Kurt looked at him as if he were crazy. He came to the conclusion that Joc's kind of 'games' was not in the same dictionary as Kurt's.

"I've always wanted to get you down and dirty like this!" Joc raised an eyebrow as the crude words fell off his lips. There was something dark and lustful in his eyes that made something inside of Kurt's body shake.

This was bad.

Kurt could see Joc's lips moving but he didn't know why. How was any of this relevant? He needed to put an end to this; get this man out of his office. Too many questions were rattling in his brain right now and he really couldn't handle it anymore.

"You need to leave!" Kurt's voice spoke hard and final.

Joc only laughed, taking Kurt's anger as a part of the so-called game they were currently taking part in. "Oh come on, baby. I know you don't want that," he winked. "Let's not fight, ok." His lips poked out as if he were begging.

Kurt wanted to cry. It's as though his body and his mind were fighting against each other right now.

His body wanted to be held, arms folded neatly on his waist as a man kissed him; as his man kissed him. He'd close his eyes and be taken care of. He'd fall into the man's arms and just give in.

However his mind was all too aware that there was a man, who would do all if that; who might very well do all that if Kurt didn't stop him in a few seconds. And that man was Joc Konny; horrible, self-entitled Joc Konny.

The man was not Blaine; not his Blaine.

Joc had moved closer to Kurt now, obviously ignoring his words. Joc licked his lips just before he lunged forward pinning Kurt to the wall.

Joc's hand was back in Kurt's southern area as Kurt's body jerked.

And then a few things happened all at once.

There was a knock on the door.

Joc's lips were on his.

The door opened. "I'm sorry I'm late, I—," the voice stopped. It was Blaine

Kurt froze.

* * *

 **Well, that was chapter five. I hope it was worth the wait.**

 **Tell me what you think.**

 **Do you like Joc? Did Kurt and Joc have some kind of relationship because woah?!**

 **LOl. Leave a review, guys and let me know.**

 **Also, leave a review and let me know if it's believable to you guys. "Brutal honest is the cornerstone of any relationship." ( Points to anyone who can tell me where that's** **from. ^.^)**

 **Next Chapter: More memories pop up and Kurt and Blaine finally meet for this damn interview! (:**


	7. Chapter 6: Culture Espresso

**Here is chapter six. (:**

 **Thank you guys SO much for reading. It means the world.**

 **Hah, I promise, after this chapter, no more Joc for a while; aside from flashbacks. ^.^**

 **Now the chapter. I hope you guys enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable...**

 **Disclaimer No.2: I have no Beta so please excuse small errors if found ( hopefully not). ^.^**

 **I have GOT to add this. Lol, I love Klaine, you guys; keep that in mind. Things have to get bad before they can get better right? :**

* * *

.

.

 **RECAP:**

And then a few things happened all at once.

There was a knock on the door.

Joc's lips were on his.

The door opened. "I'm sorry I'm late, I—," the voice stopped. It was Blaine

Kurt froze.

.

.

 **Kurt**

 _Kurt stood at the door._

 _Isabelle Wright._

 _It had been a long time since he has been in this building. The smell and the feelings of nostalgia had overtaken him the minute he walked in._

 _He continued to gape at the door._

 _His insides were running on nerves and pharmaceuticals._

I can do this.

 _It was essential that he got this job back. He had nothing else to lose. He was willing to beg, borrow, and steal. He would not go back to the club gig Santana got for him; he wouldn't dare._

 _He was tired of that place and the things he did for it, and he wasn't going to do those things anymore. Kurt Hummel was better than that._

 _He needed this job._

 _Isabelle once told him that she'd never stop anyone from pursuing their passion. Kurt may not have been sure if Vogue, or designing in general was his passion anymore, but he did know that it use to be. And if he could get even a little bit of what he used to be back, then he could be happy. He could wake up every morning and not want to…_

 _Yes, he needed this job. Rock bottom is a low place and Kurt Hummel was getting far too comfortable._

 _So he puffed his shoulders and knocked on the door._

 _"Come on in."_

 _Kurt frowned slightly. The voice was clearly not Isabelle's._

 _Kurt opened the door slowly, fearing who it might be._

 _As he entered he sighed out of irritation. "Joc." He couldn't forget the man. Joc had the same perverted yet self-righteous exterior as always._

 _Joc tilted his head in wonderment. "Well, hello," he said, smiling as he sat in Isabelle's chair._

 _Kurt's eyebrows furrowed. "Where's Isabelle?" he asked, getting down to the nitty-gritty immediately. Dealing with Isabelle is one thing, but Joc was an entirely different situation. It may have been five months since he'd last seen the man; let alone step foot in New York, but Kurt could remember their first confrontation as if it were yesterday. All respect vanished the second Joc first opened his mouth._

 _Joc chuckled. "No hello, no introduction," he shook his head. "Classy," he whispered smugly._

 _Kurt sighed again. He couldn't show disrespect, no matter how vexatiously smug Joc was. He needed this job. "Hello, Joc," Kurt started. He figured Joc didn't remember him seeing as it has been almost half a year. "I'm—"_

 _Joc stood, interrupting him. "I know who you are," he said, looking slightly bothered. "Kurt."_

 _Kurt inhaled. Joc remembered him. Joc was a powerful man with presumably a lot of responsibilities. If he could recognize who Kurt was, then Kurt must have done something right; or terribly wrong._

 _"It's been awhile," Joc stated as he walked in front of the desk, sitting on the edge._

 _Kurt wasn't sure what to say._

 _"Why are you here?" Joc asked, tilting his head as he eyed Kurt._

 _Kurt took in another deep breath. This was it. "I'm here to get my job back," he stated with fabricated confidence._

 _Joc laughed as he folded his arms across his chest._

 _Kurt hadn't said anything funny._

 _"You're here to get your job back?" Joc repeated slowly._

 _Kurt nodded once._

 _"Weren't you the one who left without any warning, the one who forced some of our designers to back out because of some fat friend?"_

 _Joc was talking about the photo-shoot with Mercedes and the rest of his friends. Kurt remembers firing Mercedes but he doesn't remember any designer's quitting._

 _Joc apparently wasn't done. "Weren't you the one that threatened me with a lawsuit and then proceeded to threaten the future of me having children?" Joc finished, pointing a finger at Kurt. He had a grin on his face, confusing Kurt._

 _Kurt clenched his teeth. Joc was making this more complicated than necessary. "I apologize," Kurt said, lying through his teeth. Tiny egotistical Joc's running around New York City would be good for no one._

 _Joc stood from the desk, barking out a hard laugh. "Don't do that," he said as he walked closer to Kurt._

 _Kurt shook his head._ I need this job _. He had an idea of what was to come, however he was going to let Joc take them there before he said anything aloud. "Where's Isabelle?" Kurt asked again, changing the conversation with honest curiosity._

 _"She's gone," Joc stated simply, standing opposite Kurt._

 _For a split-second Kurt actually thought she had died._

 _"Fired her," Joc said. "She was getting on my nerves." Joc growled slightly._

 _Firing Isabelle Wright was insane._

 _"Looks like you won't need to kiss her ass after all," Joc said smugly, picking up on Kurt's desperation._

 _Kurt was at a loss for words. Joc seemed vengeful and full of spite. How the hell was Kurt going to get his job back now? Isabelle was his only chance._

 _Kurt could have dropped right there._

 _"However," Joc stated as he walked back around the desk._

 _Kurt stepped forward slightly with hope._

 _"I know whose ass you can kiss for your job back," Joc finished._

 _Kurt understood Joc's proverbial innuendo immediately. He looked Joc in the eyes as he exhaled. If looks could kill, Joc would have been dead._

 _The way Joc's eyes fell; the way his mouth moved, he was an awful man._

 _Kurt shook his head._ I need this job _. He repeated it in his head as if it was going to make any of this better._

 _Someone once told Kurt that needing something made a person weak._

 _He couldn't spend another day at that club._

 _So he did what he felt he had to do._

 _He carefully turned on his heel and moved towards the office door. He closed it swiftly as he squared his shoulders._

 _He had to keep telling himself that this is what he needed, that this job is what he needed. He turned back around facing the man that always seems to win._

 _"I'll do anything," Kurt whispered, moving closer to the man sitting at Isabelle's old desk. "I need this job," he repeated, convincing himself more than anything else._

 _Joc smile was the devil. His eyes filled with a hungry lust as he leaned back in his chair. "You can have any job you want, gorgeous."_

...

Kurt blinked and he was back. The scene however, was relatively the same, as with Joc and sexual situations.

Kurt turned.

Blaine stood at the door; watching.

The first time Kurt was seeing Blaine since the accident and Blaine literally took Kurt's breath away. Kurt's heart was telling him it had been about two months, but his mind was saying two years. His eyes watered instantly.

 _His_ Blaine was so beautiful.

It was then Kurt realized the scene Blaine walked in on; at least what it looked like.

Kurt pushed Joc away roughly as he shook his head in denial. "Blaine-,"

Blaine's eyes were slightly wide. "I'm sorry—I uh," he stuttered. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Blaine's face morphed into something Kurt didn't recognize. "I'll leave," he said before quickly fleeing and shutting the door behind him.

Kurt's heart stopped. "Wait," he tried, but was stopped by Joc pulling his arm.

They made a half circle, ending with Kurt facing Joc with the wall behind him. "Let him go. He's an asshole anyway," Joc said casually as he held Kurt in place.

Kurt was frantic now. So many things had just happened and all he wanted was to see Blaine; to speak to Blaine. His eyes were watering again. "Please let go," he semi-begged. "I need to see him," Kurt said, pulling away from him.

Joc tilted his head. "You're serious," Joc said, keeping ahold of his hand.

Kurt looked at the door and then back at Joc, tugging at his arm. "Let go," he said through his teeth as a tear dropped.

Joc let go instantly.

Kurt left the office as fast he could.

It was like a movie scene. Kurt flew out of the office, down the hallway, and to the elevator. There Blaine stood, looking at Kurt in a way Kurt couldn't understand. Blaine's gaze then fell away from Kurt almost shamefully as the elevator doors closed.

Kurt would try to catch him, but the elevator would take too long and Kurt couldn't possibly climb down all the steps in the emergency exit with his car crash injury.

It happened so fast. He had only seen Blaine for a second, but it didn't stop his heart from doting _and_ aching.

Then there was the insane yet sudden flashback.

 _Is that really how I got the job?_

Of course, because Kurt remembered it. He remembered what he had done for the job; what he has been doing for the job. He remembers the emptiness he felt walking into the office, and the emptiness walking out. Even though he had walked out with a new pay check being put in his name, it hadn't changed how he felt.

Kurt had gone into the Vogue building that morning ready to change his life, yet he failed.

He doesn't remember what or why he needed to get out of the job he had previously, but he does remember the determination he had walking into that office.

He was going to get that job no matter what he had to do. Even if it meant whoring himself out, causing him to lose the last ounce of respect he had for himself.

The Kurt that only had glimpses of the last two years couldn't stand these feelings. It's like they were trying to take over his body without his permission.

It wasn't fair.

Kurt remembers feeling completely low and useless. As if his story had been told for him and he was only playing the part.

This story, however, was not a happy one. It was the one where he slept with his boss to get where he wanted to go.

If the job he had before walking into that Vogue office made him feel like harlotry with Joc was worth it, he didn't want to remember the last job he had.

Kurt let out a cry as he combed his fingers through his hair. "It keeps getting worse," he said aloud in the Vogue offices, breathing deep.

He had no idea what to do.

Kurt may not have had much respect for Joc and his ways. But as Kurt slowly began to gain his memories, he wasn't sure if he would like the picture the mirror was showing him anymore.

.

 **WEDNESDAY NIGHT**

 **.**

"Here you go," Santana said as she handed him a cup of tea. They were currently sitting in Santana's three bedroom apartment in the lower side of Manhattan.

After the Blaine-Joc-Vogue debacle, Kurt went straight to Santana's place. He didn't know where else to go seeing as his dad had went back to Lima and the idea of going back to his own apartment sounded dreadful.

Sebastian had shown up as well. Kurt was shamefully getting use to the man.

"I'm sorry to bother you guys," he said as he took a sip of the coffee. His throat instantly burned. "Woah," he exclaimed, struggling to get the drink down.

Sitting on the couch opposite Kurt's chair, Santana and Sebastian chuckled. "That's how you usually take it," Santana informed.

Kurt gaped at them. "Am I an alcoholic?"

Santana shook her head, not bothering with a vocal response.

"So what's up, K?" Sebastian started. "Why did I get a freak phone call from Santana?"

Kurt took another sip of his drink before regretting it instantly. "I didn't ask you to come here," he snapped instinctively.

Sebastian sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Whatever, Kurt," he said as he stood.

"Wait," Kurt said, feeling slightly guilty. "I'm sorry. Knee-jerk."

Sebastian sat back down as he wiggled his eyebrows. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"So what happened today that got you all freaky?" Santana asked, getting to the point.

"I saw Blaine," Kurt said simply.

They both looked shocked.

"What?" Sebastian asked just as Santana whispered to herself: "irony?"

"Yeah, he just showed up at the office," Kurt exasperated.

Santana looked confused. "Well you did have that interview," she spoke as if it were obvious.

Kurt raised his eyebrows almost angry.

"Which you didn't remember because of your amnesia…" she added shamefully.

Sebastian shook his head. "What happened?"

Kurt took another sip of the tea. "Dammit!" he exclaimed as he scooted the drink further away from him. "Like I said: he just showed up to the office," he started.

"That's all?" Santana asked. "Nothing happened. He just showed up?" Santana's eyes rolled. "You know what Kurt, you need to hurry up and get your memories back, because this melodramatic, two-year ago brain you've got is way too familiar and not nearly as fun."

Kurt threw a pillow at her; hard.

"It's what he walked in on that made the situation worse," Kurt confessed.

"Wanky."

"What did he walk in on?" Sebastian asked a little too enthusiastic.

"Joc; my boss and I—He had his-." Kurt wasn't sure how to phrase the situation. Brain and Mind were battling whether to get aroused or not. "We weren't in the holiest of positions," Kurt finished nervously.

Sebastian sighed as he leaned back in his chair with an eye roll.

"What did Gelmet do?" Santana asked.

"He left," Kurt said with a sigh.

Santana poked her lips out as she shook her head. "Again I say: that's all?"

"Did you not hear the part where I said Joc and I were in compromising positions?" he exclaimed.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Yeah. We heard it; we hear it, it's all the same."

Sebastian flicked Santana on the shoulder. "Amnesia," he whispered.

Kurt's mind was racing. "Not amnesia." He shook his head, searching for the right words. "I may have remembered something. Or something that I'm praying isn't true." He let out a sigh, almost afraid to ask. "Do you guys know how I got my job back at Vogue?"

Santana looked to Sebastian for help, in turn receiving none. "Do you?" she asked.

Kurt shook his head, trying to shove the image and the feelings away.

Sebastian was the one that spoke next. "Let's just cut this short, ok," he started, sitting forward in his seat.

"Sebastian," Santana said in a warning tone.

Sebastian continued, looking at Kurt. "If you're wondering if you got the job back by prostituting yourself with my boyfriend, then yeah," he paused, narrowing his eyes. "We know how you got your job back, Kurt," he finished rudely, answering Kurt's question in full.

Kurt looked to Sebastian shocked. He read something in his eyes, guessing it was anger. "Joc was your boyfriend?"

Sebastian face then turned into something of sorrow. "I'm sorry, K. I shouldn't have—"

"I need to get out of here," he interrupted. In that moment, Kurt's head felt as if he were going to explode. Joc Konny and Sebastian Smythe; it didn't make sense. And to add, Joc Konny cheating on Sebastian Smythe with Kurt Hummel; it was dreadful.

Kurt felt claustrophobic. He stood quickly before gathering his bearings to head towards the door.

"Kurt, wait," Sebastian's voice said.

"Stop," Santana said, grabbing ahold of his arm.

"No Santana. I want to be alone, please," he exclaimed, snatching his arm away from her.

Santana pulled at his arm again, turning him around. "No Kurt. I know you," she said honestly, looking Kurt deep in the eyes. "And that's the _last_ thing you need right now."

Kurt would later understand what she meant. However, right now, he just needed to get out of her apartment.

Kurt had either said that aloud, or Santana was a mind reader. "I'll stay over at your place."

Kurt was very thankful.

"Lock-up once you leave, Bastian. And don't drink all my alcohol," Santana said over her shoulder as they left the apartment.

.

 **THURSDAY**

 **.**

 **BLAINE**

"Open up, rock star," Mercedes yelled as Blaine peeked out of the bathroom from brushing his teeth.

He finishes up and glances at the clock as it read 8:45 am.

"Open this door, Blaine," Mercedes yelled again obviously losing patience.

Blaine rushed to let Mercedes in.

"What took you so long, white boy?" she began, as she walked and settled herself on the hotel couch.

Blaine rolled his eyes as he sat across from her. "What's up," he asked, wondering what he needed to do.

After Blaine had left the Vogue building, he immediately dialed Mercedes number. After he got done snapping at her for throwing him into a whack situation, he explained to Mercedes' what happened; at least a little of it. He chose to spare her the dirty details of Kurt being rubbed up on by the jackass.

What was weird is that Blaine had felt some type of feelings about it. Whether it be uncomfortable, angry, or worried; he wasn't sure. The first time Blaine has seen Kurt in almost two years and that's the first thing he sees. The fact the he felt something at all confused him. However, he wasn't going to bother himself thinking about it, when the possibility of him even see Kurt again was currently under question.

Mercedes was pulling things out of her purse; getting herself settled. "What the hell went down yesterday?" she started.

Blaine sighed. "I went into the office and then I left," he said simply.

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Why?" she exclaimed.

Blaine wasn't entirely comfortable with telling her the detailed sight of what he'd witnessed. "I walked in on he and his—" he paused. "Boyfriend doing inappropriate…things," he finished quickly. "It was unprofessional and completely gag-worthy," he admitted, almost feeling like an insecure teenager again.

Mercedes sighed. "Did you guys even have the interview?"

Blaine bit his lip nervously. No matter how long or how close he and Mercedes were, he knew she took her work seriously.

"Blaine!"

"I'm sorry," he said, honestly. "I left before anything happened."

Mercedes frowned at him.

They sat in silence for a moment before Blaine's phone rang.

Blaine stood and grabbed his phone from the bedside table.

 ** _Unknown_**

Blaine sat back down at the table, handing the phone to Mercedes.

"Unknown," he said, knowing Mercedes would scare off the caller whom might have found Blaine Anderson's number.

Mercedes rolled her eyes as she took the phone. "Who is this," she asked bluntly.

"This is Kurt; I'm trying to reach Blaine Anderson."

Mercedes instantly put the phone on speaker. "Kurt?"

"Mercedes?"

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"Mercedes! Wow, it's been so long," Kurt said. Blaine could almost hear his smile.

Mercedes squared her shoulders. "Is there a reason you're calling Blaine Anderson?" she continued. Obviously she didn't feel like having small conversations with Kurt.

"Um..." the phone said. "Yeah, I was wondering if we could meet up," he said, getting to the point. "I have an idea for an interview and the photo-shoot—"

Blaine cut him off. "If there's any more groping involved, you can count us out," he said, almost angrily. Kurt didn't even bother to apologize.

There was a cough on the other end of the line. "We can meet for coffee," he paused. "Culture Espresso," he added.

Blaine looked at Mercedes and then at the phone. "Fine," he said, agreeing to the arrangement.

"Two o'clock. Don't be late," Mercedes said as she quickly hung up the phone.

Blaine looked at her, shaking his head.

"I'm coming with you."

.

 **KURT**

"I'm meeting them at two," Kurt said to Santana, almost shaking as they sat on his bed the next morning.

Mercedes didn't seem to care at all that Kurt had called. Kurt didn't know what happened the last two years, but she couldn't possibly hate him; not if they hadn't even spoken.

Blaine obviously was bothered by the scene he'd walked in on yesterday.

Kurt wanted nothing more than to assure Blaine that what he saw was not what it looked like; at all! He needed Blaine to know that he and Joc were not together; they were not anything.

He wanted to let Blaine know that he wasn't over their relationship; that he was very much in love with him. However, Kurt was sure that he couldn't tell Blaine the last part. Kurt may have been in love with him, but he also has two years lost. Kurt could have fallen out of love with Blaine and just not have remembered.

But that idea sounded ludicrous, seeing as his heart has been going through a lot these past few weeks.

If one thing was for certain, it was that he was in love with Blaine; now more than anything.

"And you're going?" she asked, tilting her head.

Kurt only nodded.

"You think that's a good idea," she asked, worriedly

"I need to see him, Santana," he exclaimed.

Kurt missed Blaine entirely too much. If he had the opportunity to see the man again, he was not going to throw it away. He was going to savor it and make it last as long as possible.

"Kurt…" Santana tried again.

"I need to see him," he repeated. "I don't know—I just feel so—it hurts, Santana," he admitted. "Everything hurts, and I have no idea why. It's not like the pain of when we first broke up. It's worse." So much worse. "I have no control over myself, because I can't remember and it's not fair, dammit!"

"K…"

"I need to see him, Santana."

Santana sighed, knowing she wasn't going to be able to stop him. "Ok, ok," she said, raising her hands in defeat. "But I'm coming with you."

"It's work, Santana," Kurt said,

"I'm coming," she said, leaving no room for argument. "I haven't seen Blanderson in a while and you need the moral support," she finished with a smile.

"Ok," Kurt internally smiled, clandestinely thankful.

Kurt would have never thought that he and Santana Lopez would grow to be such close friends, but his soul knew that he couldn't have possibly gotten through the last two years without her; even if he hadn't yet remembered them.

.

 **BLAINE**

Blaine and Mercedes sat in the black Bentley outside of Culture Espresso.

"You ready?" Mercedes asked, looking up from her cell phone for the first time since they got in the car.

Blaine sighed, looking at the homey building. "Not necessarily," he spoke, honestly.

"Come on." Mercedes obviously wasn't listening to him as she opened the door and made her way into the building.

Blaine let out another sigh as he mentally prepared himself for whatever was to come.

Once inside the building, Blaine saw Kurt instantly.

He looked stunning. Blaine hadn't really got a chance to see Kurt when he walked in on whatever he walked in on. However, now Blaine saw him clearly. He looked even more beautiful than the day they met; and Blaine didn't think that was possible.

Blaine had no problem admitting that Kurt Hummel looked amazing. Blaine was sure he'd always look amazing; he'd be silly to suggest otherwise.

Blaine may have noticed Kurt's beauty almost instantly, but he also noticed the way Kurt held himself; almost as if he needed to defend himself against the world. Kurt may have been hard to read for most, but Blaine read him like a book. That was a great they had with their relationship; they knew each other better then they knew themselves.

It was when Kurt noticed Blaine standing at the door that Blaine could see the sadness in his eyes.

Blaine remembers Kurt's earlier days; when they first met. It was filled with sad eyes along with sad tears.

Blaine; all those years ago, had made a promise to Kurt that he would spend the rest of his life making sure his eyes always read as happy. At the time he knew the promise was loaded, and almost impossible to keep, but thinking of it now, only made him wish he had tried a little harder.

Blaine does not regret was he'd done two years ago. He knew he was doing what was best for them.

Blaine decided to stop thinking so hard the minute he saw Santana.

He hadn't spoken to Santana Lopez in a very long time. He and Santana were never really close, but they did support each other. Blaine definitely missed her.

.

 **KURT**

As Blaine and Mercedes reached the table, Kurt and Santana stood.

"Well, if it isn't Blanderson," Santana said, smiling wide. "You don't look an inch over five feet two," she said jokingly as she hugged him tight.

Blaine hugged back gently. "Hello, Santana," he said with a genuine smile.

Santana then turned to acknowledge Mercedes. "Mercedes," she said formally.

Mercedes barely glanced. "Satan," she said, rolling her eyes.

Santana tilted her head. "It's been too long," Santana said with a contradicting smile.

"Not long enough," Mercedes said quickly.

Kurt was next to speak. "Hi, Mercedes," he said, smiling slightly as he moved closer to her

Mercedes looked at him and then turned to Blaine. "I'm going to get some coffee, do you want anything?"

Kurt didn't understand.

Blaine let out a cough. He hadn't yet said anything to Kurt, let alone look at him. "Um… no. No thanks, I am fine," he said with a half-smile.

Mercedes walked away from the group as Kurt, Santana, and Blaine sat down at the table.

Santana and Blaine sat opposite each other while Kurt sat opposite Mercedes' currently vacant seat.

Kurt needed to break the silence; needed to talk to Blaine. "So," he started. "How are you, Blaine?"

When Blaine looked at Kurt, Kurt's heart began to race. The same radiant hazel that could pierce right through his soul all those years ago, was currently looking at him as if he were a stranger, and it frightened Kurt.

"I am fine," he said formally.

"It's been awhile," Kurt said, letting out a nervous laugh.

Blaine looked at Kurt hard. "Actually it's been a day," he replied.

"What?" Kurt asked, slightly confused.

Blaine leaned forward. "I don't know why I had the idea that the Editor-and-Chief of Vogue Magazine had a little more class and professionalism at the workplace," he stated passive aggressively. "It _has_ been awhile, Kurt. Figured you would have changed but I guess…," he trailed off, insulting Kurt further.

"Woah," Santana said.

Kurt had a deep frown on his face. It hadn't even been five minutes. Blaine had just insulted him intensely and Kurt had no idea why. Kurt hadn't done anything to the man; at least not anything he knew about. What hurt even worse was that Blaine seemed to mean everything he said. "It wasn't at all what it looked like-," Kurt tried.

Blaine shook his head, interrupting him. "Either way, I; someone promoting your magazine, should not have seen it."

Something went off in Kurt. "So, what? Are you going to drop out of the magazine?" Kurt asked. Blaine was being mean, and Kurt had been through too much for this meeting to end with an annoying confrontation. He was not going to let Blaine talk down to him. Whether Kurt remembered the last two years or not, Joc and the scene in the office should not have happened. It was not Kurt's fault and he was not going to let it be. "Is that why you guys agreed to this meeting?"

In that moment Mercedes decided to come back. "We are not dropping out of the magazine," she said, as she sat down. "We are the cover, and we will do this photo-shoot."

Kurt shifted in his seat at Mercedes professionalism. It's as if they were associates; no more, no less. Mercedes was Kurt's oldest friend. They were supposed to be by one another's side, for the rest of their lives. They were supposed to be at each other's wedding; side by side. This wasn't right, and Kurt didn't know why. The closest reason he could come up with was the photo-shoot incident. However, it's been two years. Mercedes couldn't possibly still be holding on to that grudge.

"Speaking of this photo-shoot," Mercedes continued. "What are we doing about it? We have been here for almost a week, and there has been nothing but unproductivity."

Kurt had officially decided that he wanted this meeting to end. He felt attacked and under-pressure. This meeting was going completely wrong. He was supposed to…

He didn't know what he was supposed to do. He knew he wanted to talk to Blaine; more or less. But it became very clear with the distant eyes and the rude remarks, that it had been two years, and they were not friends.

He shook his head, trying to keep himself from thinking too hard. "The photo-shoot will be tomorrow," he informed. He had worked really hard on the photo-shoot idea. It was as if this was his first gig as Editor-and-Chief; even if it wasn't. The fact that it was Blaine made it a little more special as well. "And for the interview, we will be doing the 73 question segment."

"The what?" Mercedes asked.

Blaine spoke up again. "It's when the interviewer comes to the client's place and asks 73 rapid fire questions."

Kurt was elated at the idea of 73 questions. Not only would he get to see into Blaine's new life, but he'd also get to find out more about Blaine.

Kurt may have had ulterior motives for choosing to do the 73 questions with Blaine, but considering how the world so apparently saw how amazing _his_ Blaine was, they would definitely want to know more about the rock star himself.

Mercedes eyed Kurt as Santana eyed Mercedes.

"Ok," Mercedes said after a long moment. "Blaine will be at the Vogue office tomorrow for the photo-shoot," she said as she and Blaine stood.

Kurt could almost say he was sad to see the meeting come to a close so soon. He had barely even gotten a chance to speak with Blaine.

"Leave the Jackass," Mercedes added, just as she left, Blaine following close behind. Just as Blaine reached the door, he glanced back, looking at Kurt briefly.

Kurt couldn't read him anymore, but he looked as if he wanted to say something.

As Blaine left, Kurt's heart dropped. He hadn't realized how nervous he was until it was over.

"She better not had meant me," Santana said, speaking for the first time in a while.

Kurt turned and looked Santana right in the eyes, glaring. "Moral support, my ass."

.

* * *

 **Hehe.**

 **Should Blaine have been angry? Mercedes is crazy,no? What's up with her? And this Joc fella, he just keeps squeezin' his way in, Damn him! Lol.**

 **I love hearing what you guys have to say, honest. Leave a review and Tell me what you think.**

 **Next Chapter: The photo-shoot, Kurt and Blaine reconnect (sorta), ect. (:**

 **Spoiler: Kurt has done some pretty whacky shit these past two years.**

 **P.s.: IDEA! The 73 questions will not be next chapter but if you guys want to send me questions you might want to ask Blaine, I would be delighted to add them to the story. 8D That's such a fun idea. Really, you guys. Send me some questions for Blaine. :D**


	8. Chapter 7: The Photo-Shoot

**...Hey...**

 **I will not say much because I know how bad the situation is. But I will say: I hope you enjoy.**

 **I completely understand if you don't read, considering my extra long and unexpected hiatus.**

 **BUT... I'd love it if you did read. C:**

 **.**

 **I advise reading the last chapter before diving into this one.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable...**

 **Disclaimer No.2: I have no Beta so please excuse small errors if found ( hopefully not). ^.^**

* * *

 **.**

 **CHAPTER 6 RECAP:**

"Ok," Mercedes said after a long moment. "Blaine will be at the Vogue studio tomorrow for the photo-shoot," she said as she and Blaine stood.

Kurt could almost say he was sad to see the meeting come to a close so soon. He had barely even gotten a chance to speak with Blaine.

"Leave the Jackass," Mercedes added, just as she left, Blaine following close behind. Just as Blaine reached the door, he glanced back, looking at Kurt briefly.

Kurt couldn't read him anymore, but he looked as if he wanted to say something.

As Blaine left, Kurt's heart dropped. He hadn't realized how nervous he was until it was over.

"She better not had meant me," Santana said, speaking for the first time in a while.

Kurt turned and looked Santana right in the eyes, glaring. "Moral support, my ass.

 **.**

 **.**

 **FRIDAY**

 **KURT**

Kurt stood in Vogue studio 34. He held a clipboard in hand, looking over his upcoming photo-shoot.

He had woken this morning absolutely drained. He was dreading the idea of what the day would hold. This photo-shoot might very well be the death of him.

Mercedes seemed as if she hated him, which broke his heart. He decided to accept the fact that her anger with him was not due to the vogue debacle two years ago, and chose to believe they had lost contact in the two years he had yet to remember.

Blaine on the other hand gave him a response in which Kurt might have thought could happen but highly doubted it with what kind of person Blaine was.

Blaine was mean in that coffee shop. The way Kurt felt with Blaine having looked at him was almost reminiscent of the conversation they had just before Blaine left Kurt's life for what was expectedly two years.

Yes, Kurt Hummel was dreading the day. But he had to do what he had to do. So he slapped on his proverbial hippo broach and mentally readied himself.

Putting all thoughts of Culture Espresso and what went down aside, Kurt focused solely on the photo-shoot.

The concept was simple yet courageously creative. Blaine's new album; Anarchy, was going to come out soon, so Kurt wanted to shed light on that.

Blaine would stand, center magazine, he'd have a cerulean button down shirt; opened, bow-tie undone; much to Kurt's delight. The cover would only be his top half but his bottoms would be maroon capris. He'd have the word ANARCHY tattooed across his chest, making notice of his upcoming album.

All Kurt had to go on was the Blaine he knew when they were friends; lovers. And he knew that Blaine was the complete opposite of the word Anarchy. So Kurt would have to copy and paste bits and pieces of the word's definition and morph them into Blaine.

Blaine's mind was so uncontrollably in order; one strike could lead to anarchy. It were as if Blaine was almost the man on the edge.

Blaine's heart was incredibly wide and expandable. However, one's heart could only expand so far. The man on the edge might get a taste of heartbreak leading him to fall off the cliff; enter the turmoil and anarchy.

Kurt knew this shoot would be amazing. If the readers of Vogue loved the end product as much as Kurt loved the not-yet-started product, there was no doubt in his mind that this would be his best first-yet-not-technically-first photo-shoot in the history of Vogue Magazine.

That is why he was currently standing in the center of Vogue Studio 34 filled with photographers, make-up artist, etc. His head was held high as he tried faking a confidence in which he knew if he faked long enough, actual confidence would take over.

He held a clipboard in hand, looking over his upcoming photo-shoot. Blaine and Mercedes were to arrive any moment.

He had brought along Santana for moral support. She obviously missed Blaine more than her snarky personality led people to believe.

"Please don't do that!" Kurt started. Santana was standing at the clothing rack, messing with the clothes for Blaine.

Kurt moved her away from the clothing as Santana flicked his bottom lip. "Come on, Mr. Pretty, all I did was look."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Now I see why I never invited you to my job."

Santana only laughed, moving to speak with the female photographer for the shoot. Kurt was almost positive Santana would be doing more than just speaking.

.

20 minutes later; just as Kurt was growing weary of Blaine's impending arrival, the studio door opened. Blaine stood beautifully made down with Mercedes and a strongly built man by his side.

Kurt's high-strung figure strolled toward the trio. "Good Morning!" he started nicely, hoping on everything that they weren't still unreasonably upset.

Blaine smiled casually. Mercedes stepped forward as she hummed a hello.

"So, you guys ready for this?" Kurt said, trying to stir up some enthusiasm.

"This better be a good shoot with all the time we've wasted!" Mercedes spoke unnecessarily.

Santana was next to speak, stepping up aside of Kurt. "So is your job to like," she gestured toward Blaine, "follow Blaine around all day or…" she trailed off.

Mercedes turned away from Santana, blatantly ignoring her. "I'm leaving. Places to be; people to see." She said, turning away, stapling her phone to her ear. "DO GOOD!" she exclaimed over her shoulder.

As Kurt watched her leave, a contradiction of emotions fell over Kurt. There Mercedes was, walking out of the Vogue Studio yet again. However now, she had this wonderfully successful life; something only some could wish for. Yet he wasn't there to see it, to support her; at least as far as he could remember. Kurt almost humbled himself in the fact that he hadn't held her back.

He may have despised the fact that they were without a doubt less than friends, but he couldn't have been more proud. Mercedes had come from this insecure pushover whom continuously lost solos to one Rachel Berry, to a beautiful mold of confidence and class.

Kurt once again found himself having to snap out of the past. It would just make him sad and that was not something he was going to have today.

Kurt turned back to Blaine and his well-aware bodyguard. "Well, uh," Kurt started. He knew what he should say, but there was also what he wanted to say, and those things did not coincide. "How are you?" he decided.

Blaine gave a soft smile. "I'm good," he said with a nod. "How are you?" he asked, surprising Kurt.

Kurt let out a light laugh. Blaine didn't seem nearly as irritated as he did a day ago, which almost made Kurt giggly. "I'm—I'm good."

Blaine nodded his head slightly. He then looked Kurt in the eyes.

Kurt could have melted under his gaze. Whether that was a good thing or not was currently under deliberation.

"I want to apologize," Blaine started again, shocking Kurt. "Yesterday at that coffee shop—I was completely out of line. I was rude and unnecessary for," Blaine glanced away. "Very silly reasons."

Kurt could have disagreed with the silly part.

"We haven't seen each other in what— 2 years, and that's how I react," Blaine exclaimed.

Kurt's heart was racing. His mind was being blown by Blaine's words, he could literally jump up and down with glee. Blaine wasn't angry with him anymore. Not for Joc at Vogue or the guy from the bar. Granted the guy from the bar was years ago and Blaine was the man that never held a grudge. Still, it warmed Kurt's heart that Blaine might very well have missed him.

"I missed you," Blaine said with no shame.

Blaine read Kurt's mind. It couldn't be possible that Blaine would say the very words Kurt has ached to hear since Blaine walked out of their New York apartment. _No, Blaine was definitely a mind reader._

Kurt realized he had been standing there with a huge dumbfounded grin on his face. He shook himself out of his Blaine-induced fog. "I missed you too," he said.

Saying it definitely woke something within him, however what broke him was that Blaine's 'I Miss You' and his 'I Miss You' held two completely different meanings; at least now it did.

They stood there for a moment; both unsure of what to say.

It was then Kurt remembered Santana was still there. She let out a short laugh. "Well, I'll be… anywhere else," she said, walking away.

Blaine chuckled, letting his head fall.

Blaine's bodyguard was next to speak. "I will be over there," he said and then immediately made his way to the food table.

Blaine nodded and then looked at Kurt again. "So, you want to get this show on the road?"

Kurt jumped a little. The photo-shoot. "YES," he said, immediately calming himself. "Yes. They are waiting for you in make-up," he informed, gesturing to the make-up station on the far end of the studio.

As Blaine walked away from him and towards the make-up station, Kurt couldn't help but watch. GOD, did he miss that man.

.

 ** _FLASHBACK_**

 _"Come on, K. You walk slower than decapitated sloths," Santana said to the Kurt standing next to her, as they made their way into the big beige building._

 _"Clever," Kurt muttered. "I don't want to be here," he added, having said those same six words on the plane ride here._

 _Here being the operative word. Santana had dragged a denial-filled Kurt all the way to California._

 _To put it simply: they needed help. Things at the club were going south and adding that on top of Kurt's borderline pharmaceutical issues; yes, they most definitely needed help. They were going to lose their shared apartment._

 _Also, Santana was so evidently tired of Kurt's mental state she knew of only one person who could snap him back to 'relatively sane', and that person might very well be hanging out here; Mercedes Jones' office._

 _Kurt knew what Santana was trying to do._

 _He was not depressed, nor was he a drug addict or an alcoholic. He just like to drink, and the sleeping pills his doctor prescribed for him made him feel a lot better at night. No, Kurt Hummel was not depressed, he was just tired. He was tired of fighting just to live, tired of sleazy men whom had not a positive motive in mind. He had been back in New York for a little over a month and here he was, doing worse than ever._

 _However, he would gladly go back to the crummy apartment they had, instead of all the way in California just to see Mercedes Jones._

 _The only good thing was two free plane tickets; round trip; convenient some might say. Kurt refused to question Santana for what she had to do for the money._

 _Kurt hadn't seen Mercedes in a long while, and he preferred to keep it that way. At least that's what he tried convincing himself of._

 _"Shut up and hurry up," Santana said, as they walked up to the front desk. "Mercedes Jones," she said, as if she knew what she was doing._

 _Much to Kurt's surprise the receptionist ushered them down a long hallway to the left._

 _Kurt shook his head as he followed Santana. "I don't want to be here," he said again, hoping to bother her._

 _As they approached an office with the name Mercedes Jones, Santana turned facing Kurt. "Look Porcelain, if you didn't want to be here, you would have threw that stupid plane ticket out the window and stayed home. However, you didn't. So I need you to stop saying that or I will stab you," she finished, as she turned on her heel and barged through the door._

 _Kurt clapped his teeth together at the back of Santana's head as he continued following her. Santana was the bitchy and annoying angel on his shoulder._

 _Santana didn't bother stopping to speak to -what Kurt guessed- Mercedes' assistant._

 _"Hey! You can't just walk in there!" the girl spoke to Santana who snapped around instantly._

 _"No," Santana said loudly, confusing the woman entirely. Santana turned and opened the door that held Mercedes Jones._

 _Kurt rolled his eyes at Santana's behavior as he tried following. Once he made it to the door however, he froze._

 _This would be the first time in maybe four months that Kurt would be able to see this woman and he froze._

 _He couldn't do this._

 _He wouldn't do this._

 _"Come on, Kurt." Santana said as she began opening the door._

 _Kurt laughed nervously as he stood still. "I'm just going to wait out here," he spoke. "With this nice woman," he added._

 _Santana gaped._

 _Kurt sighed heavily. "Please don't make me go in there, Santana." Kurt's eyes begged. Fear and anxiety ran through his veins in which Santana had obviously noticed._

 _Her eyes dropped in sympathy and understanding. "Stay here with," she pointed non-committedly at the assistant. "Her," she finished as she opened the door and closed it immediately._

 _Kurt nods as he sits in the seat opposite the lady._

 _"I should call security," the assistant spoke, already irritating Kurt._

 _Kurt sighed. "Don't," he replied simply. He was sure she said something else, in which he blatantly ignored. He leaned his head back against the wall, actively trying to keep his mind off of the situation at hand._

 _He heard it ten minutes later. He knew because in attempt to keep his mind from the situation at hand, he chose to count the seconds._

 _Ten minutes and forty-eight seconds when the yelling started._

 _"YOU WERE ALWAYS JEALOUS-" Santana's voice said, slightly muffled._

 _"OH, PLEASE! I AM A SUCCESSFUL MANAGER, HANDLING MORE CAREERS THAN YOU COULD HAVE EVER IMAGINED. JEALOUS IS THE LAST THING I AM!" Mercedes yelled back, as Kurt's heart began to sink._

 _"THE ONE TIME I ASK FOR HELP; ONE TIME I COME TO YOU, AND YOU OFFER NOTHING BUT DISRESPECT!" Kurt could hear Santana's voice getting closer to the door._

 _"I OWE YOU NOR KURT NOTHING," Mercedes said, as Santana yanked her office door open. "YOU GUYS DECIDED TO DROP US LIKE HATS; YOU DECIDED THAT YOU WERE TOO GOOD FOR US," she continued, stepping outside of her office after Santana._

 _Kurt stood the moment he saw Mercedes. She was radiant, yet so obviously angry._

 _Mercedes looked directly into Kurt's eyes. "Forgive me, if I decide to save my money and time for people that actually care for me," she said, her voice low._

 _Kurt shook his head, not wanting her words to be true. It had been forever since he'd seen this woman, yet he still felt incredibly guilty for everything. He understood completely where Mercedes was coming from, and why she rejected them in their time of need. However, understanding didn't make it hurt any less._

 _Santana scoffed and turned her back on Mercedes. "We're leaving," she said to Kurt. "This was nothing but a waste of time."_

 _Kurt nodded slightly, before looking at a almost shamed Mercedes and leaving her California office._

 _"We were stupid to think she'd help us!" Santana spoke, as they entered the lobby at the front of the building._

 _Kurt shrugged his shoulder's back in confidence._

 _Mercedes could be angry with them if she wanted; they were grown adults. Kurt was not going to let any old friend dictate how he felt; not anymore._

 _"We don't need her help, just like we don't need anybody else's help," he said next to Santana as they made their way to the exit._

 _"News flash, K: We can't even help ourselves." She turned to him. "We need help."_

 _Kurt shook his head, refusing to accept the defeat. "We'll find a way," he said, completely decisive just as they reached the front doors._

 _That's when Kurt saw him._

 _It was like a movie scene._

 _As Kurt was about to exit, Blaine; his Blaine, walked in. They were far apart; two different entrances actually, yet, Kurt saw him so clearly._

 _Blaine was stunning; gloriously beautiful. If only Kurt could see his eyes. The eyes that- once upon a time- was his safe haven, that were completely devoted and in love with him._

 _However he didn't get to see those eyes. He wouldn't be able to for a long while. Because before he was ready to accept it, the slow motion movie scene was over, and Blaine Anderson had his back to him, no chance of a glance, walking away._

 _._

 ** _END OF FLASHBACK_**

 ** _._**

Kurt couldn't help but wonder how many times he and Blaine would have to walk away from each other before they finally got it together.

An even though the flashback was triggered due to Blaine; or lack thereof, he now had a sense of why Mercedes seem so out of like with him.

He hated to think that his life; these past two years, had been so bad that he would have to beg and plead with his friends for help.

How he got to that place, was what made him itch the most.

"KURT!"

"Yes?" Kurt said, instinctively, realizing he had zoned out for at least five minutes.

"You ok?" Blaine asked, his voice laced with concern.

And just as Kurt put the pieces together; he understood that he had remembered something yet again at a time that was most inappropriate, he felt the rage take over.

This wasn't fair; much like most of the things happening in his life right now.

He wasn't suppose to be a two-timing stripper who slept with his boss to get to the top! His best friend was certainly NOT suppose to be Sebastian Smythe. And he surely was not meant to be this broken at the tender age of 20-something.

He was meant to earn the life he wanted. He was meant to be happy with Blaine and maybe even have a dog.

Granted, moments like this; photo-shoot with superstar sensations, he could definitely get use to. But he'd give it all up just for the chance to have a life he reaped.

Just as Kurt was about to answer Blaine with a half-attempted lie, he finally laid eyes on the man.

The rage literally ran out of his body.

He could go into a speech about how magnificent Blaine looked dressed in the outfit that Kurt so thoughtfully chose for him, but even Kurt's mind was dumbfounded overwhelmed by his beauty. "You look amazing."

If Kurt didn't know any better, he was say Blaine was trying to hide a blush. "It's all you," Blaine's said modestly. "It's really amazing what you've got here. How successful you are really is unbelievable."

"I could say the same for you," Kurt said simply, fearing he'd say something ridiculous.

To see all the jumbled up ideas he carries in his brain, come together and actually be relatively good, blows Kurt's mind in all aspects of the words.

"KURT!" Another voice yelled.

Kurt turned to the voice of the photographer. "We're ready for you guys.," the photographer finished.

Kurt nodded as he ushered himself and Blaine to the set.

As they were getting Blaine into place, a glowing Santana came up aside Kurt. "Damn K! You got Blaine looking sexy as hell."

Kurt smiled at his work as he looked over the entire shoot. He would eat this feeling up, because he knew that sooner rather than later he would have to come face-to-face with more questions he didn't know the answer to.

Kurt nodded to the photographer as the photo-shoot commenced.

.

20 minutes in and it was going wonderfully. Blaine was performing beyond expectations and Kurt's heart was flying miles. It was marvelous how easy it was for Kurt to fall into place. It's as if his feet were running on pure instinct. He had no doubt in his mind that this was the job for him; that this is one of the things he was meant to do.

As Kurt walked over to the desktop with all the photos that the photographer was taking, he saw one thing missing.

Blaine looked beautiful; there was rarely a time he didn't. However, the pictures portrayed him as stiff. His body seemed jammed.

"Open up a little, Blaine" Kurt said as nicely as possible. He didn't want to stir up any of the residual anger Blaine felt for him at the coffee shop the other day. They were doing good thus far; working together. Kurt was not going to be the one to screw it up.

Blaine only gave a soft smile doing as he was told.

The photographer snapped a few more pictures before Kurt shook his head, finding that Blaine still looked rigid.

"No, it's still not working." Kurt said, shuffling over to stand in front of Blaine.

He needed to do something. Whether it be change the outfit or make Blaine do some jumping jacks; something needed to happen. His hand rested on his chin as he thought.

"Should I do something; move around?" Blaine asked, clearly use to the photo-shoot business.

Kurt shook his head with a sigh. "You're wonderful," he said unconsciously, more to himself than Blaine.

Blaine only nodded, patiently waiting for Kurt to instruct him further.

As Kurt looked Blaine in the eye, an idea struck. Blaine needed to open up; let loose a little. Who better to do that than Kurt Hummel?

As Kurt began to move towards the man, his insides were shaking. Blaine could have been shirtless with the way he looked. Kurt knew that what he was about to do might very well cross boundaries that he wasn't aloud in their two years apart, but he didn't care. Partially because Blaine looked irresistible and anyone would want to touch, and partially because Blaine was amazing and Kurt was not going to put some half-amazing photo of him on the cover of Vogue.

So as Kurt reached face-to-face with Blaine, he carefully place both palms on the base of Blaine's bare stomach. Kurt looked deep into Blaine's eyes, refusing to acknowledge whatever look Blaine was giving him, and swiftly swung his arms apart; opening Blaine's arms and body up beautifully.

Kurt quickly backed away from him, signalling for the photographer to take another set of shots. Kurt walked back to the monitor, hoping that he did right. All he needed was the perfect shot.

A wide smile crossed Kurt's face as he looked at the new photo's. They were incredible.

Kurt looked at Blaine, seeing a hint of natural pink on his made-up face.

Kurt shook his head happily, more pleased with his work than possible. "That's a wrap!" Kurt spoke excitedly.

There was a collective sigh of completion as everyone began to disperse.

It was a very simple shoot, and Kurt was more than relieved to have it go on without a hitch.

As Kurt watched Blaine walk away he felt a perfumed encased latina walk up to him.

"Well, Porcelain. Considering you can't remember jack squat about this job, you sure are doing fantastic," Santana stated kindly, clearly proud the man.

Kurt bowed his head, just as surprised as she was.

"That move with Blaine was extra spicy," she whispered so only he could hear.

Kurt frowned, hoping it turned out to be less of a big deal than it felt. "Was it that bad?," he asked, facing her.

She patted him on the shoulder. "I don't know, but your face definitely was."

Kurt let out a sigh. "I don't know what happened..." he said, trailing off.

"I think you do, P," she spoke, giving him a face saying he knew better. "Meet up later?"

Kurt gave her a nod, vividly trying not to cave into himself.

As Santana opened the doors to exit the studio, roars and shouts echoed from outside.

"WHAT. THE. HELL!" Kurt heard from an enraged Santana.

Kurt quickly rushed towards the exit, ending at Santana's side.

There; feet beyond the doorway and a thin black blocked off barrier, stood fans; copious amounts. The majority of them screaming for the same thing: Blaine Anderson, with a random scream here and there for Kurt Hummel.

"How did they figure where he was?" said Blaine's bodyguard, whom found his way next to Kurt.

"Hell no!" Santana roared. She quickly began to push and shove past the mob of fans. "I'll see you later, Kurt," She said over her shoulder, pushing a girl trying to grab at her.

Kurt watched as she disappeared into the crowd. He quickly pulled the door shut on the fans, stepping back from the roars.

"Is there another way out of here?" Big man asked, looking Kurt hard in the eyes.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders, unable to give a successful answer. "I- I'm not sure."

"How are you not sure? This is your job!"

"Brudo," Blaine warned, coming up from behind, already out of his clothes, prepared to leave.

Kurt let out a heavy sigh, happy to be saved from the big man.

"It's fine," Blaine continued. "We'll just have to squeeze."

Kurt knew that the majority of the fans outside the door weren't there for him, and Blaine was probably talking about himself and Brudo, but Kurt hated the idea. He would have to be touched, and Kurt Hummel was not a fan of being touched.

Brudo; Blaine's obvious bodyguard gave a nod before squaring his shoulders and opening the door.

Kurt wasn't sure it were possible, but as the doors opened, the screams grew louder.

Kurt's heart soared at all the fans that so evidently adored Blaine. They finally got to see what he's seen since the minute he was serenaded with 'Teenage Dream' by theirs truly.

However, that feeling only lasted for a second before something struck him.

He wasn't sure what it was but he knew what he was about to do. Kurt gave himself no time to think, hoping whatever the hell was about to happened didn't bite him in the ear in the future.

He grabbed Blaine's hand just before the crowd could catch a glimpse of him. He pulled him down so they were behind the barrier and out of view. He knew he was running off pure instinct and he had no clue where he was taking Blaine, yet he couldn't bring himself to stop. All he could think was 'keep Blaine safe'.

Kurt was surprised at how compliant Blaine was, considering their situation.

He quickly crouch-ran until a corner came and the barrier ended. He pushed Blaine against the wall quickly, hoping no fans had seen or followed them.

"Brudo's going to kill me," Blaine whispered, a little out of breath.

It was then Kurt realized there bearings. There; in the heat of the moment, stood Kurt pinning Blaine innocently against the brick wall. They were inches away, body heats intermixed.

Kurt, once again had to stop his mind from thinking too hard.

This was the closest he has been to Blaine, emotionally and physically in two months. And even though technically it has been two years, Kurt couldn't help how he felt.

Kurt could feel Blaine's heartbeat under his fingertips. The same heartbeat that use to beat in time with his on a daily. The same heartbeat that made him melt and forget everything that didn't mean anything.

He would have never had the courage to be in such proximity with Blaine if it weren't purely by accident; at least now. Today the universe must have been on his side. Or was plotting against him, evilly watching and waiting to clap it's hands in victory of screwing everything up again.

As Kurt looked into Blaine's beautifully covered hazel eyes, he noticed something; something different. His heart fell at the fact that reading Blaine had become increasingly difficult, if not nearly impossible.

As Blaine continued to not speak, he blinked and looked up at Kurt through his long lashes.

That's when Kurt noticed something familiar; a hint of something so tiny yet completely unforgettable.

He would take this moment.

He let out a tiny breath, his heartbeat speeding. He leaned in slowly, his eyes heavy on Blaine's.

Blaine looked as if he were about to say something. His mouth opened and closed twice. "Kurt…" he tried again, whispering.

Kurt could feel Blaine's heartbeat speeding as well.

Slowly as they're heartbeats grew in sync, Kurt saw Blaine's eyes shift to his lips.

Kurt lips curved slightly as he knew that he had just been given permission.

As their lips made contact and their eyes closed, sparks flew and child-like hormones raged.

They're lips flowed perfectly, one soft and one musical. They were dancing a dance that some thought never would be danced again.

Kissing Blaine again, after so long, really did heal Kurt in ways that he couldn't explain. Being able to speak with Blaine after their falling out was something he could only ask for, however this; feeling Blaine's lips mix and intertwine with his was something he wished for. He would take every moment of this and savor it because he knew that even though he, himself could stop thinking, knowing Blaine; at least old Blaine, he couldn't. He was a thinker. Blaine thought until things broke.

Which is why Kurt is not surprised when Blaine gently pushed him away, breaking the kiss entirely.

It was over too soon.

Blaine was shaking his head slowly, looking down.

Kurt was breathing deeply as his worry and fear began to take over. Blaine was going to kill him for this, he just knew it.

One of Blaine's hand flew to his lips, as the almost deafening silence surrounded them.

 _FLASH!_

Kurt pried his eyes away from Blaine as he felt the heat of the bright flash capture them.

A photographer that was clearly from the mob before had just captured a photo of them.

Kurt rolled his eyes, as he looked at Blaine again.

Blaine looked worried, confused, maybe even angry.

 _FLASH!_

Kurt cursed within himself for not being able to read Blaine yet again. "Please say something," Kurt pleaded.

Blaine tilted his head looking deep into Kurt's eyes. "Kurt, I—".

 _FLASH!_

He was interrupted.

"There you are!" Blaine's bodyguard was practically raging. "We have to go," he said, pulling Blaine away, blocking the photographers constant flashes.

 _FLASH!_

"BLAINE," Kurt called out, as Blaine was rushed away from the corner.

As Blaine tried turning around, the screams came again, and Blaine was blocked from view.

"Damn it," Kurt exclaimed.

 _FLASH!_

"FLY AWAY YOU BIRD!" he yelled at the persistently annoying photographer.

He grunted away, biting his tongue.

 _FLASH!_

He might have very well screwed up not only his career, but also any chance he had at reconnecting with Blaine in even the smallest of ways.

"DAMN IT!," he exclaimed again before slamming the Vogue studio door on the photographer and the past 10 minutes.

 _FLASH!_

 _._

* * *

 ** _Thanks for making it this far. Hah._**

 ** _I hope you enjoyed._**

 ** _Leave a review._**

 ** _Whether_** ** _you want to yell at me for updating MONTHS too late, or tell me how great, or bad this chapter was. Review it up and let me know._**

 ** _~Still accepting questions for Blaine's interview.~ C:_**


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